


Kilgharrah's Revenge

by prfctdaze



Category: Merlin (BBC)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-30
Updated: 2011-01-30
Packaged: 2017-10-15 05:55:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 32,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/157705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prfctdaze/pseuds/prfctdaze
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin realises through the aid of a mysterious stranger that his impossible attraction to Arthur goes beyond anything he had ever imagined.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kilgharrah's Revenge

**Author's Note:**

> Betas: sheswatching and madtheo on LiveJournal. Thank you so much!

It took three weeks for a new habit to form – at least that’s what Arthur Pendragon had read in a magazine somewhere. He was on week number two. Each morning, he’d drag his arse out of his comfortable bed at the ridiculous hour of five to run. His flat was located in the heart of the city where trails were abundant, thereby removing his excuse to roll over and ignore the screeching alarm clock. A good portion of his route followed alongside the river which provided sanctuary to cyclists, runners, and early-rising tourists captivated by the scenic harbour teeming with every sort of boat imaginable. Already, Arthur was up to ten kilometres, quite a feat considering the short amount of time he’d been exercising with purpose.

His healthier outlook on life stemmed from too many nights at the pub, too many stiff drinks, and too many trips outside to choke down one fag after another. Although only twenty-five years old, Arthur had become concerned by frequent bouts of tightening in his chest and excruciating headaches. The young man knew his state of mind and body probably had more to do with stress rather than bad habits. Still, Arthur decided he needed to make some changes in his life, and what better way to start than by taking up running and giving up smoking?

Harsh intakes of air huffed through Arthur’s nose; it took extra concentration not to breathe through his mouth so he could avoid the inevitable sensation of eating something with the consistency of sawdust. The light breeze was crisp with just a hint of rain written in the skies. Chilly temperatures indicated winter had not fully succumbed to the seducing charms of spring, although the calendar clearly declared it was April rather than February. At least Arthur had the good sense to wear tracksuit bottoms instead of shorts with his t-shirt. The time of day was perfect; early enough to avoid the onslaught of daily commuters yet late enough that his favourite morning stop was already open for business.

The small coffeehouse loomed in the distance like a beacon, warmly beckoning a safe haven from the harshness of city life. He could almost taste the strong brew on the tip of his tongue; one of life’s little pleasures before the doom and gloom of the office. A bell jangled when Arthur opened the door of the familiar place and he squinted from the bright lights. Droplets of perspiration pooled along his skin from the effects of the brisk run and rather warm coffeehouse. Breathing in deeply, Arthur took in the mingling aromas of baked goods and robust coffees, certain the heavenly smells were worth a little sweat. Several customers already graced the popular establishment, most of them waiting their turn to place an order. Stepping forward to join the queue, Arthur smiled when he heard his name being called over the din of the crowd.

“Arthur!”

As quickly and discreetly as possible, Arthur made his way to the other side of the long counter, feeling slightly guilty as he brushed past his fellow patrons. The guilt quickly dissipated when a steaming cup of coffee and small paper bag were placed in his hands. “Cheers,” he said with a winsome smile, nodding his head in cordial thanks.

“You really should get back in the habit of stopping by on your way to the office. I miss the suit.”

Arthur ignored the usual flirting and tried to put on his best scowl. “I’m trying to be healthy, you know, _Merlin_. Running is good for me.”

“But I miss the suit,” the young, dark-haired man pouted.

A quick sip of strong coffee with a splash of milk produced a moan of satisfaction before Arthur slowly turned to model his clothes with arms outstretched. “Sorry. No suit today.”

“Mmm…” Merlin grinned and looked up and down Arthur’s well-toned body, the snug cotton shirt clearly defining his upper chest and arms. “Well, the bottoms do accentuate your…bottom…”

“Merlin, stop harassing the clientele.”

The slap to his arm was playful yet the stern tone clearly meant to get a point across.

“And stop abusing your employees, Gwen. Please.” Merlin rolled his eyes at his boss and best friend, sticking out his tongue in mock defiance. Arthur was the highlight of his working days and he was determined to take full advantage, with or without Gwen’s cooperation.

Arthur chuckled and watched the pair in silence, settling his gaze on Merlin. The tall, slender young man was a bit of an enigma to Arthur. Undoubtedly, Merlin fancied him, even though the barista knew the object of his affections was straight. It was sort of endearing. Arthur had always been a bit of an attention whore, and Merlin fed his greedy ego with unabashed flirting combined with surprisingly shy, awkward smiles. It felt safe and comfortable and Arthur had grown accustomed to the coffeehouse, reminiscent of a quaint little place he used to frequent back in London. The fact that Karma was owned by a European couple – Gwen and her charming fiancé, Lance - only solidified Arthur’s sentiments of home and hearth. Boston could be a lonely city, particularly when his friends and family resided on the other side of the ocean, yet it was the little things that made his time in America bearable.

“So, when are you going to go out with me?”

The question startled Arthur out of his musings and he looked into Merlin’s bright blue eyes. “Never. Grow some tits and chop off your dick then maybe we’ll talk.”

A hush fell over the coffeehouse for a brief moment and Arthur mentally kicked himself for his lack of propriety - or at least for not lowering his voice.

“Ah,” Merlin sighed, leaning in close to Arthur’s ear and not being deterred in the slightest. “But that’s my best part.”

Subtle fingers swiped over a slim chest and then lowered towards his other bits. Arthur’s eyes followed the motion as far as he could, until Merlin’s hand disappeared behind the counter.

“You serve food with those hands? Unbelievable,” Arthur shook his head, looking scandalised but unable to stop himself from smiling.

“Oh, let me show you how ‘unbelievable’ I can be.”

Arthur took another swig of coffee and laughed. The young man’s persistence was certainly…persistent. “Behave, Merlin. I need to go home and get ready for work. I’ll see you Monday. ‘Bye Gwen,” he waved and then strolled out, Merlin's coquettish behavior distracting enough so that he never realised he hadn’t paid for his goods.

“Oh, my God,” Merlin gushed and slumped to the counter, hiding his blushing face in his hands. “Did you see the sweat? _Did you see it?_ And his arse…Christ…That man has an amazing body.”

“Merlin, he is completely out of your league. Besides, aren’t you the one who used to go on and on about what an arrogant prat he is?”

“That was before I knew him…”

“But you _don’t_ know him.”

“Well, I know he’s bloody gorgeous. And he has a certain charm, yeah? I’d like to get to know him better.” She gave him a quizzical look. With a grimace, Merlin whirled around and placed a kiss to her cheek. “Come on, Gwen. I would think you’d be happy for me to finally show interest in someone after such a long time.”

Gwen patted him on the back. “I am, Merlin. I am. I’m just worried about you. I don’t want you to get hurt again. I mean, not that he would hurt you, intentionally. At least, I don’t think so. But, anyway, Arthur is not gay. You do realise that, don’t you?” She ignored Merlin’s pseudo-wounded expression with pursed lips and clasped his arm. “Come on, you hopeless romantic. We have _paying_ customers to attend to.”

********

The city was all ablaze, reflecting light over the river’s dark water on a late Friday evening. Arthur leant back in a comfortable chair to nurse a drink and contemplate his week from the balcony of his high-rise flat.

The monotone drone of the head of Camelot Industries’ North American branch still buzzed through Arthur’s brain. The afternoon meeting had been the most boring one ever known to mankind. It was during those times when Arthur’s bitterness towards his father seeped into every pore in his body.

Uther Pendragon had insisted upon his son’s trial-by-fire training in Boston, certain the young man required discipline which apparently could only be achieved by banishing him to the ends of the Earth. Over a year had gone by since Arthur had first stepped off the plane; a year of isolation from everything he knew and loved. It hadn’t been easy in the beginning, and it still wasn’t easy. He missed playing football on Saturdays with his mates in the amateur league, the camaraderie forged through impossible dreams of turning pro after university. Crazed London nightlife and long weekend drives in the country with the latest shag-of-the-month filled his thoughts with nostalgia. Arthur even wished for the dull Sunday brunches with his father and Morgana, the closest thing to a sister he was ever going to have. Morgana’s quick wit and caustic banter usually couldn’t salvage those dreary Sundays, yet he missed them all the same.

In America, Arthur had exactly one friend, if one could call his assistant a friend. Truthfully, one couldn’t. The two occasionally shared a meal or night out at a pub on the weekends, but that's where their hobnobbing ended. Business dinners with colleagues and clients comprised the bulk of his off-work hours, thereby negating the concept of “off-work”. There were, of course, one or two young ladies he’d taken to his bed, only to immediately regret it once expectations and commitments reared their ugly heads. He was decidedly single and resolute to remain so, at least for the time being. The charms of Arthur were known far and wide in his beloved homeland, but in the States he kept himself mostly secluded from socialising – even his late night pub crawls were almost always solo affairs - whilst he endured his father’s prison sentence. With his nose to the proverbial grindstone, Arthur was determined to dazzle the powers-that-be in the Boston office, hoping to earn enough favour for passage back home.

His plan seemed to be working. Five days ago when Arthur had spoken to Morgana on the phone, she recalled a conversation with Uther in which he lauded his son’s latest accomplishment of acquiring a little-known yet distinctively-significant company that specialised in antique weaponry. Finalised papers of the acquisition had just been signed that very morning, a proud moment for the younger Pendragon even though his father never betrayed his delight over the conference call in Arthur’s office. It was a feather in the cap of Camelot Industries – the world’s largest manufacturer of firearms and ammunition – due to the fact Uther was an aficionado of historical artefacts. Arthur wasn’t particularly keen on the fact his fortune in life rested upon the proliferation of war and death and destruction, but he believed strongly in freedom and the right to take up arms against tyranny. That thought at least gave him the ability to sleep at night.

Morgana, on the other hand, took exception to Uther’s warmongering legacy. On more than one occasion, she’d tried desperately to persuade Arthur to leave the family business and carry on the Pendragon name with honour and grace in his mother’s memory. Ygraine Pendragon had been the epitome of elegance and beauty; fair haired, kind, and loved by those who knew her. Unfortunately, her death only a few hours after Arthur’s birth precluded him from that group. It was a painful regret throughout his existence: being the catalyst for his own mother’s demise. Arthur was convinced Uther would never forgive him for it.

The breeze picked up and the temperature dropped to a bone-chilling level. Arthur shivered and stood to his feet, not even bothering to properly dispose of his empty glass before heading back inside. His last thought before crawling into bed was that it happened to be a Friday night and he’d not spent one minute in a pub. However, Arthur wasn’t so sure downing scotch in a lonely flat was an acceptable alternative.

********

“Merlin, get up. Come on, mate. Get. Up.”

“Hmph…” Merlin shifted his long limbs on the sofa and slowly opened his eyes, adjusting to the dark room shadowed by faint light from a blaring television. He wiped drool from the side of his mouth and grinned up at the silhouette that hovered over him. “Lancelot? What’s going on?” he murmured sleepily.

“From the looks of it, I’d say you nodded off.”

Textbooks and papers were strewn across a coffee table along with a carryout carton of half-eaten Chinese noodles, chopsticks, and beer bottles. Merlin sat up and began to slowly clear the clutter as Lancelot turned on a lamp.

“Where’s Gwen?”

Lancelot huffed and dropped down next to him on the sofa. “Wedding rubbish.”

“Ah, that explains the mood,” Merlin chuckled.

“What mood? There’s no mood, Merlin.”

“Oh, there is most definitely a mood, Lance. Seriously, I don’t know why you two just don’t elope and forget about the frills and lace and all that other shit.”

Lancelot lightly punched Merlin’s arm. “Just because you’re sour on love and romance doesn’t mean the rest of the world is.”

“I’m not sour on love!”

“Come on, Merlin! When was the last time you had a real date? Or just a mindless shag in a toilet? You even refuse to attend your best friend’s wedding because your ex is going to be there…”

“I don’t want to see him, _alright_?!? And for the record, I’m still pissed off you invited Will.”

“Look, I’m sorry, but he happens to be involved with my cousin. Owain is one of the ushers and I couldn’t very well tell him he isn’t allowed to bring his boyfriend to the wedding. There’s no way ’round it.”

“Whatever. I don’t even care.”

A half-filled bottle of beer was suddenly snatched from Merlin’s hand. Blue eyes narrowed as Merlin braced himself for one of Lancelot’s expected lectures.

“You do care, Merlin. If you didn’t, you’d go to the wedding with an ‘I don’t give a fuck about that wanker’ attitude and you’d dance and drink and enjoy yourself. But no! What are you going to do? Sit in this dreary flat and sulk the entire weekend when we’re having the time of our lives in the Welsh countryside. You need to be there, Merlin. Guinevere wants _you_ by her side. And I have to say, I’m dying to see you in a lavender gown.”

“Shut up.” Merlin laughed despite himself. Even though a dull ache still settled in his heart when Merlin thought of Will’s betrayal, Lancelot always managed to brighten his mood.

“Hmm…Is that a smile I see?” Lancelot placed the bottle on the table and pinched Merlin’s cheek, already turning a pleasing pinkish hue. “Seriously, my friend, think about it. You should ask that blond bloke you’re constantly mooning over every morning. He’s British. He’d probably jump at the chance for a long weekend in the old homeland.”

“He’s not gay.”

“So? You could go as friends. Will doesn’t have to know any better.”

Merlin’s eyes lit up. “Are you suggesting, Lancelot, I should ask Arthur to the wedding and pretend he’s my boyfriend just to make Will jealous?” His blue eyes widened as every scenario under the sun scampered across his mind. “It’s brilliant. Brilliant!”

Papers scattered to the floor when Merlin dropped them as he grabbed Lancelot around the neck and planted a sloppy kiss to his friend’s startled mouth.

“Ugh…” Lancelot grimaced and wiped his lips with the sleeve of his shirt. “I love you, Merlin, but please don’t do that again.”

“Is there something you’re not telling me, lads?”

Both men looked up to see Gwen standing in the doorway, arms folded in front of her chest with a somber expression upon her face.

“Hello, love,” Lancelot said nonchalantly, standing up and walking across the room to give her a peck on the cheek. “Merlin’s just snogging the life out of me.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” she giggled. “How many times do I have to tell you, Merlin? Hands off my fiancé!”

Merlin laughed and threw his hands up in defence. “Have you seen your fiancé? He’s irresistible! I can’t help myself,” he grinned.

“And _you_ ,” Gwen waggled her finger and ignored Merlin’s outburst to focus her attention on Lancelot, “are enjoying this entirely too much.”

“But just look at him, Guinevere.” Lancelot walked back towards the sofa, grasped Merlin’s hands, and pulled him to his feet. With a low chuckle, Lancelot put his arm around Merlin’s shoulders and leant in to kiss his pale cheek. “He’s adorable.”

Lancelot’s smirk soon turned into a muffled, “Oof!” when his backside was suddenly assaulted by a wandering hand.

“Nice arse.”

“That’ll be enough of that, young man.” Lancelot removed said hand from his arse and put ample distance between himself and his obviously-needing-to-get-laid flatmate.

“You two,” Gwen said and shook her head. “It’s a good thing I have faith in you. Otherwise, I’d have to murder the pair of you.”

“Ah, such talk from my future wife.” Lancelot returned to Gwen’s side and swooped her into his arms, kissing her long and deep whilst caressing her caramel skin. “Why are you back so soon?” Lancelot asked when they came up for air. “I thought you’d be at least three hours, cackling with the girls about dresses and cakes and things.”

“I forgot the guest list. And I don’t _cackle_.”

“If you don’t mind,” Merlin interjected, “I’ll be off now. I’m meant to go stalk someone.”

“What?” Gwen narrowed her eyes in confusion.

“I’ll explain later,” Lancelot whispered in her ear. “Have fun!” he shouted, waving like mad until Merlin left the flat.

“What’s he going on about?”

“Nothing.” Lancelot smiled and winked.

“Lancelot…” Gwen’s tone warned of dire consequences if her questions weren’t answered.

“Let’s just say, I think Merlin’s changed his mind about the wedding.”

********

Merlin charged down the stairs and exited through a side door of the coffeehouse. It was convenient to share the flat above Gwen and Lancelot’s thriving small business; the commute to work couldn’t get any better. The Massachusetts Institute of Technology was just across the river in Cambridge, the campus almost visible from the pavement in front of Karma. If one had a car – which Merlin didn’t – or the physical stamina to hump ten kilos of textbooks across the bridge on foot – again, which Merlin didn’t – then one’s journey to university wouldn’t have been nearly so frightful. As it was, Merlin’s second-hand bike had to suffice for transportation. Each morning after his shift at the coffeehouse, Merlin was sent into an awkward tailspin of trying to balance a heavy backpack fastened to his body whilst an uncomfortable helmet shifted most ungracefully during his cat-and-mouse game with traffic and pedestrians. Merlin had learnt over the course of eight months that the helmet was an essential albeit klutzy accessory; one too many scrapes and falls had shattered any sort of dignity he had left.

Traffic was moderately sparse for a Saturday night in the city, although downtown businesses had their fair share of diners, drinkers, and revellers. Merlin knew his favourite customer lived nearby but he had no idea where. He assumed it had to be in one of the more posh areas; just one of Arthur’s immaculate designer suits was worth more than Merlin’s salary for an entire month. The odds of casually bumping into his unsuspecting target seemed to be a rubbish bet, but Merlin was a gambling man and he continued the quest despite his inner voice telling him he was an idiot. Merlin’s – or rather Lancelot’s – brilliant idea didn’t seem as brilliant when Merlin walked the neighbourhood streets in search of Arthur. It didn’t take long for the inner voice to claim victory.

Most of the restaurants and clubs had dark windows, prompting Merlin to enter those establishments one-by-one to take a glimpse inside. After the second somewhat rude exchange with a hefty bouncer – seriously, he was expected to pay a cover charge for just taking a quick peek? – Merlin decided to admit defeat and surrender the hunt for the elusive Arthur. It was a foolish idea, anyway. Why the hell would someone as gorgeous and successful as Arthur Pendragon want to spend a weekend with a poor uni student at a wedding where he didn’t even know a soul, including the poor uni student?

Discouraged and feeling lonely, Merlin almost laughed at his own stupidity. Of course, Arthur wouldn’t even entertain a thought of accompanying Merlin to Gwen and Lancelot’s wedding. Arthur held no sentiment for him. It was the reason why Merlin flirted with Arthur most mornings at Karma, allowing his imagination to run wild with getting inside those expensive trousers. Arthur was straight. There was no real hope of ever having a chance with him, therefore Arthur was proclaimed “safe” in Merlin’s heart and mind. Merlin enjoyed the teasing and sexual tension and just the overall friendly banter between them. But he knew it didn’t mean anything.

Walking a few blocks further down, Merlin finally settled on nursing his wounds with a pint at a known hangout for the university crowd. He checked his jeans pockets to determine his money situation, and smiled when he remembered Lancelot had flipped him an extra twenty for sweeping the kitchen floor after closing that evening. Clean up duties had fallen to Gwen and Lancelot – mostly Lancelot – when the boy with a nose ring and spiky hair had suddenly vanished without a word. Merlin didn’t mind helping out until they hired a replacement; he quite enjoyed having a bit of extra dosh for little extravagances like food and drink.

Sidestepping a trio of smokers who loitered near the front door, Merlin ducked inside and peered through the dim lights until he spotted an empty corner table. A reggae band played on a stage whilst three couples and a lone young woman occupied a small dance floor, swaying back and forth to the hypnotising beat. The club wasn’t Merlin’s usual haunt. He preferred a particular loud, energetic, and sweaty gay club called Colors where he could blend in with the walls and people watch. One day he hoped to cast off his emotional shackles and actually ask someone if they wanted a drink or a dance. Or maybe even a blow job in the loo. But Merlin wasn’t quite there yet.

He signalled a waitress to the table and ordered a Guinness Draught, tapping his long fingers on the table in time to the music until she returned and placed a glass in front of him. It went down smooth and easy; he licked foam from his top lip and savoured the flavour as if his throat had been parched for days. A pint always tasted better in a crowd rather than drinking alone in a flat. The band stopped playing to take a break but the lull in the music didn’t last long before Jamaican pop filtered through the speakers, enticing even more dancers to the floor. Merlin became so absorbed by the bumping and grinding bodies that he didn’t notice when someone approached his table.

“Is this seat taken?”

Startled, Merlin almost choked on his drink when he looked up to meet a pair of amber eyes. The young man with the distinctive voice towered over the table, intimidating presence with a muscular physique, light brown complexion with a goatee, and a skinhead haircut. A black leather coat, black trousers, and black cotton shirt completed the look of a tall, dark, and handsome stranger. He wasn’t exactly Merlin’s type - not that Merlin seemed to even have a type anymore given he’d been nearly celibate since Will – but there was something about the stranger which piqued his interest.

“Please.” Merlin gestured for the man to sit down. “May I buy you a drink?”

“I’ll have water, thank you. My name’s Edgar. Edgar Wyrm.”

He reached across the table and Merlin stood to his feet, shaking his hand and saying, “A pleasure. I’m Merlin Emrys.”

They sat down and before Merlin had a chance to summon the waitress, the blonde in question suddenly appeared at the stranger’s side with a glass of water and a smile. Merlin found it all very intriguing; the man certainly had a commanding presence about him. Even more captivating was when the stranger shrugged his black leather coat off to reveal a massive chest and arms, the tight fabric stretched over his body like a second skin. It should have garnered a physical reaction in Merlin; the young man was stunning, after all, and he would have had his pick of any man or woman in the club. Yet Merlin was surprised to find himself completely spellbound by an innate tug which went far deeper than physical attraction. In fact, he was certain physical attraction had nothing to do with it.

“You’re staring,” Edgar quipped with amusement.

Merlin bashfully ducked his head. “Sorry. I…Do we know each other? Are you a student at M.I.T.?” Tentatively, Merlin looked up and saw a flash of recognition in the amber eyes.

“You need to ask the question.”

“What? I…What do you mean? I asked if we knew each other…” The man seemed so familiar, and it wasn’t the decidedly un-American accent.

Edgar suddenly stood to his feet and moved forward to place his hand on Merlin’s shoulder. It was the first time Merlin noticed the detail of a tattoo on the stranger’s left bicep; flames flickered out from beneath the sleeve of the cotton shirt, burnt orange and black soot swirling into a lethal tornado of might and torment. Merlin winced when Edgar tightened his grip.

“Ask him.”

Without another word, the man gathered his coat and walked out of the club, leaving Merlin with his mouth hanging open in astonishment and wonder.

“Ask him,” Merlin repeated under his breath. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? Ask who what?”

With voracious thirst, Merlin finished off his drink and slapped the twenty to the table, not even giving a second thought to how much he could have used the change at a later time. He hurried out into the night and looked to his left and right, scanning the area in what he knew was a futile attempt to determine Edgar’s whereabouts. Heart thumping and pulse racing, Merlin suddenly craved the sanctuary of home and he headed in that direction at a quick pace.

The first time Merlin heard it, he swatted around his ears as if an annoying mosquito was flying around his head. The buzz grew more pronounced until it morphed into whispers, hissing indistinguishable words from an indistinguishable source. Merlin practically ran down the pavement, fraught to eradicate the disturbing sound before it swallowed him whole. The air suddenly warmed around his body; images of flames licking at his heels hastened him forward with desperation. Time and again, Merlin crashed into pedestrians with an unapologetic “sorry” before he continued his mad dash to safety. Traffic lights blurred and he became disoriented when he realised he must have taken a wrong turn. Unfamiliar trees formed a semi-circle around a small urban park; light posts cast an eerie glow upon benches and a children’s playground of swing sets and a jungle gym.

Merlin’s eyes widened when thunder sounded and a flash of lightening lit up the skies, entreating a torrential downpour to engulf the city. Another flash of light made Merlin’s blood run cold. He could have sworn he’d seen Edgar dangling from the jungle gym bars sans the black shirt with his feet dragging across the ground. The source of the flame tattoo glinted with forewarning and power. On second glance, Merlin stared through the pounding rain at an empty park, his hair saturated and plastered against his head whilst drenched clothes hung on his thin body like a heavy burden.

A dragon. A fucking dragon. Merlin had seen it as plain as day. Burnt into the stranger’s skin, a mammoth body of brute strength and a wingspan of monstrous proportions scrawled across the broad chest and torso. Razor-sharp scales and claws so intricate Merlin could almost feel their deadly scratch over his flesh. The head of the beast was fierce and positioned near Edgar’s shoulder, mouth wide open and spewing fire along his upper arm, the visible eye mocking and gleaming in the bright light.

“Fucking hell!”

Merlin spun around and took off running, the rain causing his legs to falter as he fought through the elements to find the path home. Storefronts sped past his eyes, still unrecognisable, and he wondered how he’d managed to get himself so turned around. Most everyone had already taken cover, the deserted street offering little comfort to Merlin and his shaky psyche. Finally, he came upon a market he occasionally frequented for their in-season fruits and vegetables. It was very much out of his way and he marvelled at how far he’d journeyed from the flat. The wind picked up and threw his balance off, knocking his body against a brick wall. He stumbled forward into another brick wall - one that suddenly grew arms and caught him just before he hit the pavement.

“Oi! All right there, mate?”

Merlin looked up into a sea of blue and gasped, the terror of the past minutes expelling into warmth and comfort as he buried his face into a strong shoulder. “Arthur.”

“ _Merlin_?!? Christ, what are you doing here? You look like a drowned rat. Well, not that I look any better…”

“Oh, my God, Arthur, you don’t know how happy I am to see you!” He wrapped his arms around Arthur’s waist even tighter as if to reinforce his declaration.

“Uh…Right.” Arthur hesitated, deep in thought, and then said, “Come on, Merlin. We need to get you out of this rain. My flat’s just a block away.”

Arthur tugged Merlin’s arm and steered him in the opposite direction. Waterlogged and weary, Merlin found strength in the man next to him, spurring his tired body on with renewed vigour and determination. Merlin didn’t understand how an evening that started out with such promise had turned into a nightmare filled with a mysterious stranger, a sinister dragon, and a freakish thunderstorm. It didn’t make any sense that a harmless tattoo had such an effect on him. The convergence of the bizarre and macabre caused Merlin to wonder if someone had slipped something into his drink. Surely, his mind was playing tricks on him and the impromptu storm certainly didn’t help matters.

However, at that point in time, Merlin didn’t really care. Threading his arm through Arthur’s, he squeezed hard and rested his cheek against soaked cotton. It felt more luxurious than the finest silk.

********

“Good evening, Mr. Pendragon.” The guard to Arthur’s building tipped his cap and opened the door to usher in the sopping wet pair, a slight smirk upon his usually stoic face as he glanced at Arthur and then stared at Merlin. “Awful weather we’re having. The forecasters didn’t even come close.”

“Indeed,” Arthur replied crisply as he splayed his hand across Merlin’s back and nearly shoved the young man forward, guiding him towards the center lift.

“Enjoy the rest of your night!”

Arthur bit his tongue and ignored the tone of Lewis or Jones or whatever the man’s name was. He didn’t appreciate the cheeky attitude; the guard seemed amused by something. Arthur’s instinct was to be insulted, even though he wasn’t sure why he should be insulted.

“Will you please stop pushing me?” Merlin griped.

“What? Sorry,” Arthur mumbled and pressed the code for the penthouse flat. “Sorry,” he repeated, sounding slightly aggrieved when Merlin scowled at him.

“What’s wrong?” Merlin asked. He crossed his arms and pressed against the back of the lift, putting as much distance as possible between himself and Arthur.

“Nothing. Nothing. I’m cold and wet and tired. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to push you.”

After a short nod of his head, Merlin lowered his gaze to the porcelain tile floor and watched a small puddle form as water dripped from his clothes. His body trembled from the cold as pain spread throughout muscle and bone, throbbing steadily like an internal drumbeat.

In no time at all, Merlin found himself once again being led by Arthur, this time into a spacious and extravagant flat. Rich chocolates and pale browns intermingled with red accents in the lounge. An overstuffed sofa looked comfortable enough to sink into for days, melting away aches and pains in blissful fashion.

“You watch a lot of telly?” Merlin asked with eyes wide, staring at the largest flat screen television he’d ever seen.

“Not really.” Arthur shrugged his shoulders. When he was home, Arthur was usually sleeping, working on the computer or on rare occasion, fucking. “No! Stop!” Arthur cautioned Merlin to stay away from the furniture. “You’re soaked. We both are. Come on, I’ll get us some dry clothes.”

“I should’ve known,” Merlin smirked as he followed Arthur through the lounge and down a hallway to the bedroom.

“Should have known what?” Arthur halted and turned to face him.

“You’re obviously one of those anal sorts…”

Arthur’s eyebrows rose and he stared pointedly into Merlin’s blue eyes, cocking his head in irritation. “Pardon?”

“Um…I mean…you know…a neat freak. Can’t get anything dirty. What did you think I meant?” Merlin chuckled, his face warming from a blush to his cheeks.

“I’m sure I wouldn’t have a clue what you meant, Merlin.” Arthur guided Merlin towards the toilet door. Really, Merlin had to be one of the strangest persons he’d ever met. “You’re shivering. Why don’t you take a hot shower and warm up? There’s an extra bathrobe in the corner cupboard…”

“For overnight guests?” Merlin grinned. He couldn’t help himself; even exhaustion and hypothermia seemed to bring out the tease in him when he was around Arthur.

“Overnight guests? Who the hell said anything about overnight guests? Toss your clothes out and I’ll put them in the dryer. Shouldn’t take too long before you can go home. I’ll even ring a taxi for you if it’s still raining.”

“Thanks,” Merlin said curtly, clearly not thankful. Suddenly, Merlin remembered why he couldn’t stand Arthur when he first met him. The manner in which he treated everyone around him - as if they were his subjects and he was their royal pain in the arse - was annoying, to say the least. Merlin certainly didn’t wish to be a bother. God forbid Arthur would be inconvenienced in any way, even though he was the one who had invited Merlin to his flat.

Arthur shifted his weight from one soggy foot to the other. Somehow, he felt like the situation had gotten out of hand. The impulse to offer Merlin a place to dry out had seemed a good idea at the time, yet now that they’d arrived at his flat, Arthur had the feeling he’d inadvertently pissed Merlin off. And he wasn’t sure why or how. Or why he especially cared.

Merlin unzipped his hoodie and let it drop from his body.

“No! Not on the…carpet,” Arthur sighed and then bent down to pick it up.

“God, you really are a neat freak.”

“It’s absolutely soaked, Merlin. Do you know how much this carpet cost?”

Merlin looked down at the wet spots already on the carpet from the both of them just walking across it. “No, but I’m sure it can withstand a little water, Arthur,” he deadpanned and then stripped off his dripping wet shirt. Carefully placing it in Arthur’s hands, Merlin then started for his belt.

“Would it kill you to take your clothes off in the loo?”

“Why? Am I embarrassing you?”

“No, I just don’t particularly want to see your skinny bare arse parading about.”

“Fine.”

Merlin marched inside and slammed the door shut. He looked around and shook his head in disbelief - it was twice the size of Merlin’s bedroom. Dark brown tiles and wood cabinetry were in perfect contrast to the ivory walls. An enormous shower – roomy enough for an orgy, it seemed – beckoned Merlin with its ceramic tile and glass enclosure. He could almost feel the hot water already running down his skin, soothing the fatigue right out of his body. Curious, Merlin opened the medicine cabinet to inspect its contents. Shaving supplies, headache pills, toothpaste, and various other mundane items stared back at him. “Hmph,” he snorted upon seeing a box of condoms. “Someone actually wants to have sex with that tosser?” he whispered to the mirror.

“Merlin,” Arthur’s muffled voice sounded through the door. “Clothes, please.”

“Hang on.” Somehow, Merlin had imagined a different scenario when or if Arthur Pendragon ever demanded his clothes to be stripped from his body. Life just wasn’t fair. After kicking his trainers across the floor, Merlin slipped his jeans, pants, and socks off, almost hesitating to turn the boxers over to Arthur. But really, why the hell should he care? “Here,” Merlin said with the door cracked open and his arm stuck out, brandishing the wad of clothing.

“Hand me a towel?” Arthur asked as he took the heap of wet clothes from Merlin’s hand.

Merlin opened the door wider, turned his back to Arthur, and walked towards the corner cupboard where he found a seemingly endless supply of towels and flannels as well as the infamous bathrobe. He hoped his gracious host got an eyeful of his skinny bare arse, but Arthur’s head was tilted to the side when Merlin returned with a towel.

“Thanks,” Arthur mumbled and made a hasty retreat. The freedom Merlin exhibited was a bit unsettling, especially when Arthur tried so very hard to ignore it. He’d seen loads of men without a stitch on – the locker room at the gym and other such occasions – but somehow it was different when he knew Merlin was sexually attracted to him.

Merlin shut the door once again and gathered a few necessities from the cupboard. Placing a towel on the marble vanity, Merlin then strode to the shower with a flannel in hand. He opened the glass door and stepped inside. After Merlin turned the water on full blast, steam quickly gathered and impeded his view. It was pure heaven as warmth embraced his body like a lavish blanket.

********

Arthur paced back and forth in front of the large lounge window, watching the rain come down in sheets amidst a backdrop of twinkling city lights. The urge to leave the flat in search of a pack of fags was strong but it was easier to fight since he’d already changed into pyjama bottoms and a t-shirt, not to mention the idea of going back out into the cold rain held no appeal whatsoever. Padding barefoot across the floor, Arthur came to the kitchen for a glass of water. He thought better of it and decided to raid the liquor cabinet instead. After the first sip of brandy, Arthur nodded his head and smiled; so far, it had been his best decision of the night. He returned to the lounge and settled into a comfortable chair, turning his head in the perfect direction to continue watching the outside storm.

His thoughts reluctantly kept circling back around to a particular thin, lanky bloke with exceptionally pale skin – did he ever go out in the sun? – funny ears, blue eyes, and a quirky, wry grin. Individual features weren’t terribly remarkable but put them all together and Arthur had to admit Merlin wasn’t that bad looking of a fellow. In fact, Arthur decided Merlin was actually quite stunning. It wasn’t particularly bothersome to acknowledge he found the young man appealing; his masculinity wasn’t completely threatened by admiring someone of the same sex. What really gave Arthur pause was the predicament he could be in if he allowed himself to dwell on Merlin’s allure. Not only did they travel in opposite social circles, with nothing in common whatsoever, Arthur wasn’t too keen on exploring uncharted waters of his sexuality. He had enough problems with women. Throwing a man into the mix, no matter how charming and attractive, was a rubbish idea.

“Hey.”

The soft voice caught Arthur unawares and he looked up to find Merlin wrapped in the bulky robe, the soft cotton swallowing his slim frame whilst making him look extremely young and vulnerable. All dry now, except for damp hair and with a slight pink hue to his skin, Merlin stood silently and fidgeted. “Hey,” Arthur returned the greeting. “Feeling better now?”

“Yeah. Listen, I’m sorry for…earlier.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, thanks, you know, for everything. I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful. I appreciate the offer for the shower and dry clothes. And taxi,” he added with a shy grin. “So, where are my clothes?”

“Yeah, about that…I was thinking,” Arthur began, knowing he hadn’t been thinking anything of the sort and wondering why his mouth continued to form words his brain screamed at him to cease. “Maybe you just want to crash at mine tonight? I mean, it’s late and it’s still raining. And the sofa’s comfortable.”

Merlin’s eyebrows rose in surprise at Arthur’s generous proposal. He was rather relaxed now and the prospect of leaving his warm sanctuary at that particular moment wasn’t one he looked forward to. However, his up and down emotions had his mind in a fog. It probably wasn’t the best idea to stay and yet Arthur wouldn’t have offered if he hadn’t wanted Merlin to take him up on it. “You don’t mind?”

“No, ’course not. I’ll get your dry clothes. Actually, you probably don’t want to sleep in jeans, do you?”

“Um…If you have something to spare…”

“Yeah. I’m sure it’ll be too big but…well, sleeping and all, who cares?”

“Right.”

“Come on,” Arthur said and stood to his feet. He walked over to the bar along the kitchen’s perimeter, placed the glass of brandy down, and then signalled Merlin with his hand. “Follow me.”

Merlin did as he was told and trailed behind Arthur as they made their way back to the bedroom. He tried not to notice the way the dark blue pyjama bottoms hugged Arthur’s bum, but his efforts were utterly in vain. His dick stirred when he thought of the way Arthur’s bare arse would fit in his hands as he lay beneath him, being fucked into the undoubtedly brilliant mattress. “Stop it, Merlin,” he whispered under his breath.

“What?” Arthur started to turn around.

“Nothing. Nothing,” Merlin assured him, waving Arthur onward.

Now that Merlin was warm and cosy rather than dripping wet and cold, he paid more attention to Arthur’s bedroom. It was designed much like Arthur himself – very manly with sophisticated yet sturdy furniture, dark tones with splashes of colour that exuded a playful, sexy side to an otherwise utilitarian room meant for sleeping and most certainly fucking. Merlin shook the traitorous thought from his head. Arthur was straight. Nothing but heartache awaited Merlin if he allowed himself to fall for the blond. He shifted his attention to the picture window that extended the wall over Arthur’s bed. The view it afforded through the white aluminum grille was breathtaking in its scope of the city. Merlin wondered what it would feel like to wake up in the decadent platform bed; the sun peeking out over the horizon and slowly spreading warmth along his body; kissing his skin like an attentive lover and coaxing him awake.

“Merlin!”

Merlin gasped, startled from his dreamlike state. “What?” He met Arthur’s blue eyes, certain his face blazed with a mortifying blush.

“Do you have inappropriate intentions towards my bed? You’re staring at it like you want to rip the linens off and shag it senseless.”

“What?!? It’s…Uh…Well, it looks…um…very comfortable…” At that moment, Merlin wanted to crawl under the bed and hide for eternity.

“Don’t even think about it!” Arthur chuckled and threw pyjama bottoms at Merlin, hitting him in the face. “I’ll fetch your pants from the laundry room.”

When Arthur stooped over to retrieve Merlin’s clothes out of the dryer, he accidentally snagged the pants with his watch. “Bugger,” he grunted. He lifted the thin material to the light and saw it was just a small pulled thread. A wide smile spread across his face when he read the label in the center of the waistband: MANSTORE. The white, practically see-through boxers were made for a tight little arse, yet there was ample room in the front for someone who had nothing to be ashamed of. “What the hell am I doing?” Quickly, Arthur folded Merlin’s unmentionables into the haphazard pile of clothing and he walked back down the hallway towards the bedroom.

“Here.” He handed the clothes to Merlin. “Get dressed in here and I’ll make up the sofa for you.”

“Thanks.”

Arthur took his time fluffing the pillow and straightening the sheet and blanket, hoping to calm his jumbled nerves. He had found himself passed out on the sofa several times throughout the year he’d lived in his flat, so he knew Merlin would have a decent night’s rest.

However, Arthur was wrong. Merlin didn’t sleep a wink.

********

Final exams came and went and Merlin was so busy with studying and working that he nearly forgot all about Edgar Wyrm. That was until the intimidating man stepped into Karma one cloudy morning, wearing the same black attire and intense gaze.

“Um, hello there,” Merlin managed to say without ducking into the kitchen. “May I help you?”

“Did you ask him?”

Merlin stopped wiping the top of the counter with a towel and he gulped, “Pardon?”

“Arthur. Did you ask him?”

Pale skin grew even more so. “Arthur? You know Arthur?”

Edgar leant across the counter and smiled. “Not really. At least, not in the sense you mean.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand…”

“No. But you will.”

With patience well beyond thin, Merlin’s anger flared and he felt heat rise up his neck to his face. “Look, I don’t know what you’re playing at, but I’m not interested.”

“Everything alright here?” Gwen asked as she came up behind Merlin. She looked from one man to the other in a combination of curiosity and mild unease.

“Everything’s fine,” Merlin said and resumed cleaning the counter. “The gentleman was just leaving.”

“Congratulations on your impending marriage,” Edgar said to a surprised Gwen.

“Uh…Thank you,” she replied with a crease of concern lining her brow.

“It should prove to be a lovely wedding in the country. I’ve been to the castle where the ceremony will take place. Stayed there a while back, in fact, although the accommodations weren’t the most hospitable at the time. I hear that’s changed, though. It’s quite a tourist attraction now, so I’m told.”

“Yeah, it’s a beautiful setting for the wedding. I’m sorry, how do I know you?”

“You don’t. I’m a…friend of Merlin’s.”

“Oh! Well, how do you do? I’m Gwen.” Gwen held her hand out and Edgar bent down to kiss it.

“Edgar Wyrm, at your service. Such a beautiful bride you’ll make; the Queen of the castle, no doubt.”

She laughed. “Well, I don’t know about that.” Gwen turned towards Merlin and her face blanched. “Merlin, are you alright?”

“Hmm…” he nodded. “I’m just going to take a quick break. Be right back. Edgar, may I speak with you outside?”

“Of course. Lovely to meet you, Guinevere.” Edgar smiled and gave her a small salute before he followed Merlin through the front door.

“What the bloody hell is going on?” Merlin hissed once they’d turned the corner, a safe distance away from the coffeehouse. “How do you know Arthur? And what the fuck are you going on about with Gwen? How do you know about the wedding? Who are you?”

“I’m your friend, Merlin…”

“You’re no friend of mine…”

“But I am. I know you better than you know yourself.”

Amber eyes glinted with familiarity, causing Merlin to stumble backwards. He felt a tiny surge of something within his being - like flint striking steel, daring a spark to emerge and conjure a consuming flame. It was something powerful – possibly dark – and certainly old. Frightened, Merlin abruptly turned on his heels and ran away as fast as he could. Edgar’s deep, throaty laugh filled his ears and followed him down the pavement, through the coffeehouse, up the stairs, and beyond the door of the flat.

 _Ask him._

********

Arthur took a few bites of lobster and sipped a glass of white wine. Every once in a while he’d look up at his dinner companion and wonder what was going on in that head of his. So far, he was mystified by the stunning silence.

The phone call to his office had surprised Arthur; he hadn’t even realised Merlin knew where he worked. In the month since he’d last visited Karma, Arthur’s excuse of busy days at Camelot Industries proved a valid one, although it wasn’t close to the truth. He had, in fact, been avoiding the coffeehouse since a tense encounter the Monday after Merlin had stayed the night at his flat. Their usual friendly banter had seemed strained and foreign. Originally, Arthur had attributed it to himself; he constantly thought about Merlin’s awkward smile and the simmering temper that surfaced when he became frustrated. And his lips - Arthur thought a lot about Merlin’s lips. All the disconcerting reflection added up to one big uncomfortable feeling that settled in the pit of his stomach. But it hadn’t just been him. Merlin had acted differently towards Arthur as well. The ease between them had somehow gotten swallowed up in that fateful thunderstorm.

So, when Merlin had called him with the odd declaration he needed to see him right away, Arthur agreed out of sheer curiosity. Except that now Merlin wasn’t talking.

“How’s your pasta?”

Merlin met his eyes and gave him a small nod. “It’s good. Really good.”

“Good.”

It was like pulling teeth. Stubborn ones.

Arthur was nearly finished with his meal and still Merlin refused to shed any light on what the hell was going on. It was obvious Merlin was almost bursting with news of some sort, yet Arthur was just as stubborn and couldn’t bring himself to coax it out of him. He figured if it was important enough then Merlin would eventually talk to him.

The waitress came and went so many times that Arthur knew she was gagging for it - with her sly smiles and long, batting eyelashes. Any other time he probably would have been somewhat flattered but, at that particular moment, Arthur only felt annoyed and intruded upon. It didn’t help matters that Merlin was about as forthcoming as a corpse.

“Uh…May I ask you a question?” Merlin asked. He pushed the remaining fettuccine around with his fork, back and forth, and rolled it around the utensil without ever taking any more bites.

Finally. “Please, by all means.” Arthur swallowed the last of his wine and sat in rapt attention.

“Do you know someone called Edgar Wyrm?”

“No.” Arthur hesitated. “Why? Should I? Who is he?”

“He’s just some bloke I met at a club a few weeks ago.”

Arthur took a deep breath and waited for the other shoe to drop. The marked pause in Merlin’s ambiguous narrative was rather irritating. “So…What? Why should I care who you’re shagging?”

“What?!? No! I’m not…I…It’s not like that. At all. He’s…uh…very strange. He came to Karma several days ago and mentioned your name…”

“My name? What on earth for?”

“I’m not sure. I think I’m supposed to ask you something, but it doesn’t make any sense.”

“No, you’re certainly not making any sense, Merlin. What is this thing you’re supposed to ask me?”

Arthur decided to drop the unease he felt at the prospect of someone else honing in on his life and instigating Merlin’s odd behaviour. He’d deal with it at a later time. For now, his objective was to find out what the question was.

“Well, I’m not exactly sure, but I think I’m supposed to ask you if you’d like to attend Gwen and Lancelot’s wedding with me. In Wales. Next weekend.”

It sounded absolutely mental to Merlin as the words spilled from his mouth. Over and over, he’d gone through the brief conversations he’d had with Edgar. The night of their first meeting, Merlin had been scouring the city in search of Arthur, intent upon asking him to the wedding. Edgar’s demand in the club, “You need to ask the question,” hadn’t made any sense whatsoever. Ask him. The puzzle was exhausting to fathom. Yet the strange man’s direct mention of Arthur during their second encounter and the subsequent exchange with Gwen about the wedding began to put a few of the pieces together in Merlin’s mind. At least, that was the only plausible theory he could come up with.

“That’s a very kind and thoughtful invitation, Merlin. Especially considering a random stranger had to put you up to it.”

“No! I wanted to ask you earlier, but I thought you’d turn me down. I mean, we don’t really know each other very well and you don’t really know Gwen and Lance at all.”

“Not to mention, I’m straight, of course,” Arthur piped in with a bemused grin.

“No, it wouldn’t be like that. I know you don’t think of me like that.”

“Certainly not.” Arthur hoped his face didn’t betray any guilt.

“I just thought…Well, actually, it’s a completely rubbish idea, anyway…”

“You just thought what?”

Arthur glowered at the waitress when she came back around. He was in no mood for interruptions, and the girl thankfully got the hint without further incident.

Merlin sighed and leant forward a bit, lowering his voice. “My ex-boyfriend is going to be there and I don’t want to go alone. I thought, maybe, you could accompany me and it wouldn’t seem so awkward…”

Shifting in his chair, Arthur spoke in a similar soft voice, “Yeah, taking someone you barely know wouldn’t seem awkward at all.”

The cheeky tone cut through Merlin like a knife. He straightened his back and shrugged his shoulders in false indifference. “I told you it was a rubbish idea. Look, I’m sorry to bother you. It won’t happen again.” Merlin placed a few bills on the table and stood to his feet. A sting in his eyes and pang in his chest hit so suddenly, Merlin knew he had to get out of there before he made a scene. That was all he needed – to be fodder for Arthur’s future jokes with his mates.

“Merlin? Where are you going?” Arthur started to get up but then he noticed the curious glances around the dining room which zeroed in on him. So, he stayed put and stared at Merlin’s back until the man vacated the restaurant.

“Shit,” Arthur said under his breath.

The crushed look upon Merlin’s face made Arthur wince, knowing he’d been the reason for it. Despite the confident façade Merlin portrayed more often times than not, Arthur sensed the young man was a sensitive soul and prone to heartache. The brave front he put up, mingled with a hefty dose of humour, was a defensive tactic set up to ensure the protection of his heart. Arthur was quite familiar with defensive tactics.

He reckoned he’d need to make amends. Merlin was, after all, the closest person in America whom Arthur could sort of call a friend. Putting aside his extracurricular activities of imagining more intimate relations with Merlin, Arthur wasn’t keen to forfeit a budding friendship because of apprehension about his own sexuality. And he certainly didn’t want to be the cause of hurt feelings. It took a great deal of bravery for Merlin to lower his defences and ask Arthur – not a cheeky come on, but a real and honest invitation to escort him to his best friend’s wedding. The fact that Merlin had to have a bit of a shove was another matter entirely; one that Arthur was determined to get to the bottom of.

Pulling his mobile from his trousers pocket, Arthur dialled a number and drummed his fingers anxiously against the table.

“Ben? /Arthur Pendragon here. /Fine. And you? /Good. Listen, I need a favour. /I need you to dredge up any information you can on a man called Edgar Wyrm. /I don’t know. W-O-R-M, I suppose. Anyway, get back to me as soon as you can. /I have no idea. He’s in Boston, so start there. /Excellent. Thanks.”

********

The flat seemed lifeless and empty. Merlin collapsed onto the sofa and flipped through channels on the telly, finally settling on a tragic film that was certain to unleash the pent up tears he’d been harbouring all day. Boredom was a terrible thing, particularly when it allowed time for thoughts and feelings. Classes were officially over for the term, Gwen and Lancelot had already left the country for final preparations before the ceremony, and Karma’s doors had been closed for a long holiday during their absence, leaving Merlin alone with sad thoughts and regrets. He was miserable.

Gwen’s disappointment with Merlin’s ultimate decision to forsake the wedding had been met with blatant hostility on Lancelot’s part; he’d concluded that Merlin had changed his mind about attending. When that didn’t actually happen, Merlin had been shocked at his friend’s angry outburst, though it shouldn’t have come as any surprise. Lancelot was fiercely protective of Gwen, and Merlin’s choice to stay behind had hurt her deeply. He only hoped they could eventually forgive him. Meanwhile, Merlin had to stand by his decision. The prospect of facing Will again was too paralysing to even contemplate, particularly facing him in Merlin’s current alone and pathetic state. It was the coward’s way out, but the only means for Merlin to avoid a complete mental breakdown.

The movie ended just as Merlin thought it would, leaving him with melancholic dread and emptiness. Girl didn’t get boy but rather fell into a life of prostitution and eventually met an untimely end at the hands of a drug dealer. At least one thing was in Merlin’s favour: he didn’t intend on whoring himself out anytime soon. Of course, with his recent track record, Merlin figured he’d have to pay someone for sex, not the other way around. He always seemed to fall for the wrong man. Arthur Pendragon was hardly an exception.

Gorgeous blond hair and blue eyes, a perpetual arrogant smirk upon sensuous lips, and a muscular physique that Merlin’s fingers itched to touch had all united to drive him absolutely mad with lust and desire and, quite possibly, something more. The idea was insane. They were barely friends and certainly had little in common. Lust, Merlin could understand but this other feeling of caring for Arthur was beyond reason. Yet it was the only explanation which made any sense. He’d been upset by Arthur’s cool reception and ridicule of the wedding invitation. Merlin couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so small and insignificant.

“God, I am such a girl!” Merlin whinged and pressed his face into a pillow.

A hard knock at the door jarred him from his stupor.

“Merlin? Are you in there? It’s Arthur.”

His heartbeat quickened and his mouth suddenly went very dry. Kicking his way out of the tangled sheet around his legs, Merlin turned the television off and walked towards the voice. “Arthur?” he called out. “What are you doing here?”

“May I come in, please? I’d rather not have this conversation through the door.”

Merlin unlocked the latch and opened the door to find a sullen Arthur leant against the frame. “Come in,” Merlin said.

Stepping aside, Merlin guided Arthur into the flat and closed the door, locking it once again. One could never be too careful.

Arthur looked around the untidy flat; empty bottles of water and beer with a pizza box strewn across the lounge table; a rumpled sheet and pillow on the sofa; clothes and shoes marching a chaotic trail along the floor. He sidestepped the clothes and walked towards the sofa, grasping the edge of the sheet and tossing it on top of the pillow. “May I?” he asked and then sat down before being granted permission. “You should open a window in here sometime. Air the place out.”

Merlin stomped over to the other side of the sofa and plunked down with a thud. “I’m sorry it doesn’t meet your high standards, Arthur. What do you want?”

This was good. Merlin took a deep breath. Arthur was going to show himself to be a complete arse, illustrating once again why he was an egotistical prick who didn’t deserve one minute of Merlin’s time.

“No, Merlin, I…It’s just a bit stuffy in here, is all. That’s all I meant. It’s a perfectly fine flat. A little messy but, well…”

“What do you want, Arthur?” Merlin refused to give him a break.

A small smile of exceptionally white teeth greeted Merlin as Arthur turned his body to fully face him. “I wanted to apologise for the other evening. My intent wasn’t to come across as insulting or anything else. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

“You didn’t hurt my feelings.”

“I didn’t?”

“No. Whatever gave you that idea?”

Arthur scratched his head. “Oh. Well. I just thought…Hmm…I don’t know.” He felt completely perplexed since his radar was obviously off where Merlin was concerned. Confirmation that he’d not hurt Merlin’s feelings should have given Arthur a reprieve from guilty thoughts yet something still didn’t sit right with him. “I must have been mistaken. I could’ve sworn I’d hurt your feelings. I’m sorry for taking up your time.”

He began to stand up, but Merlin reached out and clasped his arm.

“Um…Well, you may have hurt my feelings a bit. Just a bit. But I’m over it now.”

“Are you?” Arthur sat back after Merlin released him, narrowing his eyes and studying the pale face like a buyer studies a canvas in an art gallery. “Is that why your eyes are swollen and there are tearstains on your cheeks?”

Hiding his face in his hands, Merlin quickly regrouped and met Arthur’s eyes. “No! I was watching this stupid movie. It was utter shit but it was sad and I sort of got caught up in it. You can’t possibly think I’d cry over you? Pfft…” Merlin scoffed and shook his head.

Grinning, Arthur reached over and lightly clipped Merlin on the chin with his knuckles. “’Course not. No one ever cries over me.”

Merlin grinned, too, and they sat there staring at each other for a few moments before Merlin saw the blankness in Arthur’s smile and eyes. His heart clenched in his chest when he played the words over in his head. No one ever cries over me. The profound sadness of Arthur’s statement echoed through Merlin’s mind and it touched a raw nerve deep within his soul. “You…You can’t mean that. I’m sure there’s a string of women who have cried big, fat tears over you.”

“No.” Arthur turned his head and got a faraway look in his eyes. “I’m the son of the mighty Uther Pendragon. Can’t let sentiment or such things get in the way of business, you know. It’s my duty to be strong and focussed and not bother with anything that could take that focus away. I don’t have time for commitments or serious relationships. Not right now, anyway. So, yeah, no one’s crying over me.”

It stung to say it, and even more so because it was true. The longest relationship Arthur had ever been in was with Sophia, a mistake from his last year at university. They’d lasted an astounding three months and it was the most miserable three months of Arthur’s life. He didn’t allow himself to get emotionally close to anyone, consequently removing any and all chances of someone crying over him. Arthur was the life of the party when he wasn’t working his fingers to the bone – the one who made them laugh and have a good time. It was all fun and games and he kept everyone at arms length, never letting them get quite near enough to see the real person inside. Even Uther, especially Uther, didn’t really know his own son. Not really.

“I did,” Merlin said in a small voice.

“You did what?” Arthur’s breath caught in his throat when Merlin shifted so close their knees touched. “What are you doing?”

“I did, Arthur. I cried over you.”

Long fingers brushed over Arthur’s cheekbone, warm to the touch. “What? You just said you didn’t cry…”

“I lied. Because I was hurt. I like you, Arthur. Too much, I reckon.”

Merlin used Arthur’s thigh and balanced himself with his hand to lean forward with eyes closed and lips parted ever so slightly. Just before Merlin’s mouth made contact, Arthur’s leg shook and startled both of them.

“Ah! My mobile’s on vibrate. I’ve got to take this,” Arthur explained and quickly extracted himself from Merlin’s grasp. His heart beat rapidly in his chest as he realised just how close he’d come to letting Merlin kiss him.

Merlin groaned loudly and fell back against the sofa whist he watched Arthur pace back and forth in front of the television. So near and yet so far; Merlin had no idea what the hell he was doing. He only knew that something stirred when he thought of Arthur, and it wasn’t just his dick. There was some unnamed connection between the pair of them. Merlin felt it deep within his bones. Straight or not, Merlin sensed that Arthur felt it, too.

“Well, that’s strange,” Arthur stated and returned to the sofa, rubbing his eyes.

“What?”

“That was a business associate of mine. I called him earlier and asked him to investigate something for me. Turns out, your friend, Edgar Wyrm – that’s W-Y-R-M, by the way – belongs to a consortium that has their fingers in a lot of pies. One such pie happens to be Calibourne Fine Antiques and Artefacts. Or I should say happened to be - Calibourne is now owned by Camelot Industries. We just signed the papers a few weeks ago. Anyway, strange timing, don’t you think? Didn’t you tell me you met the man a few weeks ago?”

“Uh…Yeah…” Merlin’s brow furrowed as he took it all in.

“And he suggested you ask me to your friends’ wedding. Coincidence? Doesn’t seem likely…”

Merlin thought back to the odd exchanges with Edgar, particularly the disappearing part and when he’d felt a strange sort of power within his own body. He decided to keep that bit of information to himself for the time being. There was no sense in having Arthur think he was a nutter. “Well…He didn’t suggest in so many words but…What do you think he’s after?”

Arthur lolled his head back and gazed intently into Merlin’s blue eyes. Their faces were close and their voices had lowered almost to a whisper, almost intimate. “I don’t know, Merlin. It doesn’t make sense. But I know one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“We’re going to the wedding.”

“What? Are you serious?”

“I’ve never been more serious. You still want to go, don’t you?”

“Yes!” Merlin beamed and he gave Arthur an enthusiastic kiss on the cheek. “Oh! Sorry.” Merlin blushed and ducked his head.

“It’s alright, Merlin.” Arthur reached out and smoothed a wayward strand of Merlin’s dark hair. “It’s alright.”

********

Arthur looked at Merlin through dim lights. He smiled when the young man twitched, obviously fighting sleep in his excitement. Wide eyes popped open all of a sudden and met his own.

“Hey,” Merlin grinned. “Are you watching me?”

“You should try to sleep, Merlin. You barely ate anything. I don’t know how you’re still conscious.”

“I’ve never flown first class before.”

“It’s nice, yeah?”

“Mmm…” Merlin nodded his head and he pushed further into the fluffy pillow. The smile didn’t last long before his face suddenly sobered. “It will take me a while to pay you back.”

“No worries about that, Merlin. It’s a business expense. Get some rest.” He reached over the short partition which separated them and pressed the control panel to fully recline Merlin’s seat. “Sleep,” he ordered.

“You sleep, too.”

“Alright.” Arthur adjusted his own seat and soon they were at eye level once again. He turned to his side, mirroring Merlin’s position, and they stared quietly at one another.

The hum of the engine lent a lulling, dreamy effect and slowly enticed Merlin to shut his eyes. Arthur took in the long eyelashes and sharp cheekbones, wondering why this man captivated him so much. There was a sort of innocence about Merlin and yet a quiet storm rumbled just below the surface, as if he’d been through rough times and somehow managed to come out the other end, bruised but not beaten.

“I can’t sleep with you staring at me.” Opening his eyes, Merlin chuckled and snuggled into his blanket.

“Fine, don’t sleep. But I don’t want to hear you complaining later on,” Arthur scowled through a half smile.

“Mmm…” Merlin nodded his head, deep in thought. “Gwen will be so surprised to see me. She was really upset. And Lancelot, God, I’ve never seen him so angry. I felt awful about the whole thing. But I just couldn’t…” He stopped and turned his head away from Arthur’s penetrating gaze.

“Must have been really dreadful between you and your ex, huh?”

“Yeah.”

When it became clear Merlin wasn’t going to continue, Arthur broached the subject carefully. “So, what happened between you two?”

After a few moments, Merlin found his voice. “We were together for three years. And then he ripped my heart out.”

Arthur decided during Merlin’s tale that he would have liked to rip Will’s heart out. Literally.

Merlin and Will had settled into a little flat in Islington, domestic bliss at its finest. The pair were together as lovers for over two years, although they’d known each other most of their lives. Their relationship had been a slow burner on both sides; neither one of them came out until well into their teens. After the death of Will’s father, something just clicked between them. Merlin reckoned it was Will’s exposed vulnerability which finally brought their mutual attraction to light. Merlin remembered their first night together. Nothing sexual happened at first; Merlin just held Will in his arms for hours and tried to soothe his friend’s tears with soft words and caresses. It didn’t take long before the caresses escalated into heated groping and unbridled need. They never looked back and living together cemented their commitment to one another. Merlin thought he found his soul mate, yet the comfort it brought proved to be their undoing. He trusted too much.

The morning of their third anniversary, Merlin awoke and went straight to the kitchen. He returned to the bedroom with a tray of coffee, eggs, and toast. A vase with a single red rose was placed in the corner of the tray, a silly romantic gesture yet it put a smile on Will’s face. They made love that morning like it was the first time - little did Merlin know it would be their last.

They decided to skip the customary elegant dinner for their celebration and instead settled on pub fare; they were, after all, struggling students with a limited budget. As the evening progressed, a fight broke out between two blokes, so pissed they could hardly stand upright. Merlin recognised one of them as being a neighbour down the hall, so he didn’t think anything of it when Will stepped in to break the fight apart. What he didn’t count on was the apparent familiarity between Will and the neighbour. Confessions of the most sordid kind, shouting, fists, tears, and Merlin’s eventual return to his mum’s house with his tail between his legs brought the celebration to a disastrous end.

“That bastard hit you?” Arthur skimmed his fingers over Merlin’s face, as if the injuries were still fresh. The skin was soft and Arthur hesitated, finally bringing his hand back down to the side of his hip. It unnerved Arthur how easy it was to touch Merlin; how much he craved the contact.

“Yeah, well, it was a fight. I got a few hits in myself.”

“But you’re so…” Arthur paused.

“Skinny? Weak? Pathetic?”

“Stop it.”

“I was such an idiot to believe he truly cared for me. The signs had been there for a long time; I just refused to see it. Will was my first and, you know, I thought we’d be together forever. I wanted to make him happy but it wasn’t enough. I wasn’t enough for him. I wanted so much to be loved and accepted for who I am, you know? I always felt like an outsider and that I didn’t really belong anywhere. I mean, my own father couldn’t even stand the thought of me. He left my mum when she was pregnant with me.”

Arthur clasped Merlin’s chin and lifted his head up. “Your father was a fool. You’re not to blame, Merlin. Not for Will. Not for anything. Don’t allow anyone to belittle your worth. You have a lot to offer.”

Merlin nodded his head and touched the skin where Arthur’s fingers had lingered. His heart was still tender after almost a year since the breakup with Will. Just when Merlin thought he was finally getting on with his life – on another continent, no less - his best friends had to invite the bastard to their wedding and open up the wound all over again. Gwen and Lancelot had experienced the aftermath of Merlin and Will’s failed relationship – Merlin shutting down emotionally and closing himself off from the rest of the world - but they had never been privy to the exact details of what had gone wrong. Merlin was too embarrassed to reveal the extent of his shattered self-esteem. He was quite surprised he felt comfortable enough to confide in Arthur, especially about his father. He _never_ spoke of his father to anyone, not even Gwen. But with Arthur, somehow, it just seemed right.

********

They arrived at the castle just before dusk, making their way up the long drive in a rented car and marvelling at the beauty of the grounds. Lush rolling hills blanketed the landscape; tall trees and colourful foliage becoming prominent as they neared the impressive structure. A white tent was set up on the east side of the castle, its tables and chairs appearing miniature in the distance, obviously in preparation for the following day’s festivities.

Merlin stared out of the passenger window at their surroundings, unnerved by his thoughts. “They levelled the lower town,” he whispered.

“They what?” Arthur removed his focus from the paved drive and turned his head towards Merlin.

“The lower town…” Merlin hesitated. In his mind’s eye, Merlin clearly saw small buildings and decrepit hovels lining the path. A distinctive impression of walking the streets of a bustling little community, the sounds of children laughing, and the scent of livestock filled his senses.

“The lower town? What are you going on about?”

Merlin shook his head and chuckled. “I must have read about it in one of Gwen’s brochures about the castle. It doesn’t matter.”

Arthur gave Merlin a strange look and then redirected his attention to the road. In no time at all, they arrived and a valet walked to the passenger side of the car, ushering Merlin out of the vehicle before stepping around to Arthur’s side.

“Good evening, gentlemen. My name is David. Are you guests of the du Lac wedding party?”

“Yes,” Arthur replied and then he glanced at Merlin for confirmation. He smiled when Merlin nodded his head.

David retrieved their luggage and garment bags and led them to the front entrance. “I believe dinner commenced about thirty minutes ago. Simon will get you settled and then you may join the rest of your party.”

“Thank you,” Arthur and Merlin said simultaneously.

Twenty minutes later, Merlin had given up and slouched in a most uncomfortable chair, the meagre padding not nearly soft enough for the sharp, bony lines of his body. His mood had plummeted to an all-time low since they’d begun their journey across the Atlantic. Something felt…off. They’d barely arrived, and Merlin was already looking forward to going home. He smiled to himself. Since when had he thought of America as home?

“Merlin, come here.” Arthur waved his hand, clearly irritated by his unproductive conversation with Simon.

“What?” Merlin sighed once he joined Arthur and the dour, diminutive man behind a gargantuan desk.

Arthur grasped his arm and pulled him forward. “You’re the best man, right? I mean, of course, there has to be room for the best man?”

“Well, actually I’m not the ‘best man’. I’m the man of honour. Or at least I was.”

“The what? Man of honour? Oh, yes, you’re standing up with Gwen. Anyway, _Simon_ , this is Merlin. _The man of honour._ Surely, there are accommodations in the castle for the man of honour?”

“I am very sorry, sir. We are completely booked. I’m not certain what happened…”

“Is there a problem, Simon?”

Arthur and Merlin looked up to find an elderly gentleman walking towards them. The slight hunch of his shoulders, wrinkled skin, and unusually long silver hair betrayed his age yet a spry twinkle in his eyes told another story entirely, one of a sharp mind and quick wit and a probable stern side that was best to be avoided.

“Yes, Gaius, it seems we’ve overbooked the rooms. I don’t see Mr. Emrys or Mr. Pendragon on the guest list.”

“Let me take a look at that,” Gaius said and practically swatted the little man away like a bothersome gnat. “Hmm…Seems you’re correct, Simon.”

“You know what?” Merlin interjected, Arthur’s impatience evidently rubbing off on him. “We’ll just stay at a hotel in town. We passed at least three on the way here. It’s fine.”

“Now, wait a moment,” Gaius cautioned. “I have a solution to your problem. We’ll prepare a room in the west wing. It’s normally closed to guests but I believe an exception is in order. I do apologise for the inconvenience. It will take some time to get a room ready.”

“ _A_ room? You don’t have another room lying about?” Arthur asked with frown.

The older man had the good grace to look contrite. “I’m sorry…I just assumed…”

“I’ll just sleep here. In this _lovely_ chair.” Merlin turned and pointed to the chair in question. “Make up the room for Arthur and…”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Merlin. You’re not sleeping in _that_. We’ll take whatever you offer, Mr…I’m sorry, what is your name?”

“Gaius. Just Gaius. Very well, sir, I’ll see to the accommodations.” Gaius gave him a little bow and shuffled off.

Simon returned to his station and rifled through a stack of papers. He looked up and observed the anxious pair. “If you don’t want to wait, someone can escort you to the dining hall and you can join the…”

“We’re not dressed for dinner,” Arthur interrupted.

“Oh, who cares, Arthur? Gwen and Lancelot certainly won’t, and they’re the ones who matter.”

Arthur narrowed his eyes. “What’s gotten into you, Merlin?”

“Nothing. I’m…hungry.”

“Of course,” Arthur said, absolutely certain Merlin was no such thing.

********

The dining hall was a grand sight to behold. A table spanned the length of the room and seated around twenty people by Merlin’s estimation. Rich wood-carved panels extended the walls and a beautiful tapestry hung over an enormous stone fireplace, intricately designed into a work of art. Decadent food graced fine china and sparkling crystal glasses of champagne seemed to never go dry. Merlin wondered how the hell Gwen and Lancelot were paying for such an extravagant wedding rehearsal dinner. Apparently, Karma was doing much better than he’d thought. Perhaps it was time to ask for a raise.

“Fantastic,” Arthur muttered behind him.

Merlin turned and mouthed, “What?” and then his eyes followed Arthur’s hands, gesturing down their bodies in disgust at the jeans and t-shirts.

“Merlin!”

Merlin spun around and found himself with an armful of Gwen - a smiling, jumping-up-and-down-in-joy Gwen.

“I can’t believe it!” She pulled back and gazed into his eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? I’ve been absolutely sick over this, Merlin…”

“I’m sorry, Gwen. I’m really sorry.”

“I see you made it after all.” Lancelot stepped from behind Gwen and half-scowled.

Merlin hesitated and then reached out to embrace his friend. He sighed in relief when Lancelot wrapped him into a bear hug. “Sorry, Lance,” Merlin whispered.

“You’re here now. That’s what matters,” Lancelot said and released him. He shifted his attention to Arthur. “Did you have anything to do with this?”

“Me? No. I’m just here for a good party.”

“Of course. Well, it will certainly be one now! Come on. There’s plenty of food and drink.”

Merlin felt guilty when he and Arthur were seated next to Gwen, even though the couple that they usurped insisted with a smile on moving. Dinner was nearly over anyway, but it didn’t quell Merlin’s unease. He picked at wild mushroom soup whilst Arthur had already moved on to a main course of roast sirloin of beef.

“I thought you were hungry?”

“I am. I mean, I’m eating. See?” Merlin spooned soup into his mouth and nodded like a man on leave from the psychiatric ward.

“Yeah, whatever.” Arthur returned his focus to the delicious beef with Yorkshire pudding and horseradish sauce.

Gwen patted Merlin on the knee to get his attention and leant in close to his ear. “Just so you know, Merlin, Will is staring at you from across the room.”

“What? Oh, God…”

He’d almost forgotten the reason why he nearly backed out of coming. Almost.

The priest was the first one to retire for the night, but soon other members of the wedding party and their guests began to leave as dinner came to a close. Everyone stopped by to thank Gwen and Lancelot for a lovely evening before heading to their rooms in the castle or driving back to their hotels. The castle was ill-equipped to handle lodging for everyone; Merlin reckoned he and Arthur were lucky to find themselves on Gaius’ good side so they could stay there rather than having to secure other accommodations.

“Decided to dress up for the occasion?”

Merlin bristled at the voice of his ex-lover and rose to his feet. “Hello, Will.”

“Aren’t you going to introduce me to your…friend?”

Arthur immediately wiped his mouth with a napkin and stood up. “Arthur Pendragon.” He contemplated not shaking the man’s hand but ingrained good manners prevailed and Arthur stuck his hand out. When Will didn’t reciprocate, Arthur cursed good manners to hell and lowered his arm.

“Pendragon? As in the Camelot Pendragons?”

“The one and the same.”

Will glanced at Merlin and then his eyes grew cold as he stared at Arthur. “It was a Camelot pistol that killed my father.”

“Will…” Merlin began.

“No, no, Merlin,” Arthur waved his hand. “Please tell me, _Will_ , how a pistol was able to kill without the aid of a human being?”

“Arthur, come on, let’s go. I don’t want to ruin Gwen’s night…”

“You should listen to your boyfriend before it gets unpleasant in here,” Will gritted through his teeth.

“Oh! What? Are you threatening me? Because I don’t take too kindly to threats, especially from the likes of you…”

“Arthur! Please!”

Merlin’s shout captured Lancelot’s attention and he stepped in the middle of the trio.

“What’s all this about?” Lancelot’s jaw flexed with obvious unease.

“Nothing. We were just leaving,” Merlin replied with a pleading look to Arthur.

Arthur begrudgingly complied and they said their goodnights and thanks to Gwen and Lancelot before retiring to their room.

********

Within two minutes of Gaius’ narrative of the castle during their walk to the former royal quarters, Arthur stopped listening. His blood still boiled over that insolent arse Merlin used to call Boyfriend. It was people like Will who insisted on holding the Pendragons accountable for the ills of the world, rather than taking responsibility for their own actions and placing the blame where it was rightfully due. He’d heard it all his life and Arthur was more than sick of it.

“I believe this was the King’s chambers,” Gaius said with pride and opened the door to a spacious suite of rooms.

“The King’s chambers? Did you hear that, Arthur? How often does one get to say they slept in the King’s bed?”

Merlin smiled, hoping to bring Arthur out of his sullen mood and maybe even convince himself things weren’t totally horrible.

“Yeah, that’s nice,” Arthur responded with a frown.

“It’s a bit old-fashioned but it has a lovely view of the gardens and you can light a fire if you get chilled. The bath is rather rudimentary, I’m afraid, but we have running water at least,” Gaius concluded. “Well, if you don’t need anything further, we shall bid you goodnight. Come along, David.” Gaius placed a key on the mantle and gestured for the young man to set their belongings down before they walked out, leaving Merlin and Arthur alone in uncomfortable silence.

Merlin busied himself with unpacking his suitcase. He used a corner of a small table to sort out his personal items like toothpaste and aftershave. Unzipping the garment bag, Merlin scoured the walls for a hook and finally found a suitable place to hang his wedding clothes. Contrary to Lancelot’s wishes, it was not a dress nor was it lavender.

“Are you going to take a bath tonight or in the morning?” Merlin asked when he walked to the adjoining room and peeked inside. _Rudimentary, indeed._

“Uh, I hadn’t really thought about it. Tomorrow, I suppose.”

“Alright. I’ll take mine tonight so we’re not rushed in the morning. I wouldn’t mind a lie in,” he added with a smile.

“Yeah, whatever.”

“What’s wrong, Arthur?”

“Hmm…” He turned to face Merlin and gave him a wide smile. “Nothing’s wrong. I think I’ll go round up some drinks while you’re in the bath. I could use a drink. You fancy a drink?”

“This isn’t about Will, is it? You’re not going to look for him, are you?”

“What? Absolutely not. He’s not worth my time. Trust me, Merlin, I’m only looking to get pissed. What time is the wedding?”

“Three.”

“Perfect. Plenty of time to recover.”

Arthur decided if he was going to endure the weekend – especially the nights – he’d need to be utterly and spectacularly drunk. The prospect of sleeping next to Merlin struck more than a little fear into his heart but, after eyeing the settee, Arthur knew there was no way either one of them could rest comfortably on the antique piece of furniture. He figured being passed out would solve his dilemma of sharing the bed with Merlin.

“Take the key.” Merlin strode across the room and retrieved it, placing it in Arthur’s hand. “See you soon.”

Merlin locked the door behind Arthur and set about gathering his things. After deciding the royal bedroom was a bit cold, Merlin quickly lit a fire and then started the water for his bath. Thankfully, the water was hot and he found a stack of fluffy towels and a bottle of bath salts in a small armoire located on the opposite side of the tub. Once he stripped off his clothes, Merlin sighed in pleasure as he sunk into the bath and let the warmth caress his skin.

He’d survived seeing Will again. That was something. Even though Arthur and Will had nearly come to blows, the evening had to be labelled a success; no bloodshed, no tears, or setting oneself on fire. It was quite an accomplishment. Now, if only Merlin could exorcise the odd feeling of déjà vu and the foreboding sense of doom which overcame him at certain moments. Like now, when he felt he was being watched. Merlin cautiously opened one eye and looked around the empty room. “Christ,” he mumbled. With lightning speed, Merlin finished washing and climbed into bed as fast as he could, pulling the blankets up under his chin and wondering where the hell Arthur was.

Arthur stumbled into the room a good two hours later with a fresh bottle of champagne and pair of glasses in his hands. Smiling at the sight of the fire, Arthur walked towards the bed and chuckled at the lump in the middle. “Merlin?” he whispered. His intent wasn’t to have been gone for so long, yet Arthur couldn’t resist chatting up a cute bridesmaid in one of the former libraries, now renovated into an intimate nightclub. Arthur needed to assert his masculinity and complete heterosexuality, after all. However, as with most things, women in particular, Arthur quickly grew bored and proceeded to drink copious amounts of alcohol, occasionally nodding his head and smiling like he’d just heard the most fascinating thing in the world. He knew he’d pay for it the next morning with an excruciating hangover but he didn’t care.

The floor creaked and startled Merlin awake. He moved the blanket down past his eyes and watched Arthur in the firelight. Sucking his breath in at the beautiful sight, Merlin stared at the way Arthur peeled off his cotton shirt, revealing muscled arms and a hard chest and torso. The reaction between Merlin’s legs couldn’t be helped when Arthur removed his jeans; tight red and black pants leaving little to the imagination. Merlin pressed a hand down to his crotch to contain his excitement, and the movement caught Arthur’s eye.

“You awake?” he slurred.

“Yeah.” Merlin sat up and scooted near the edge of the mattress.

“I brought champagne.”

With surprisingly fluid movement for one so pissed, Arthur grabbed the glasses and bottle and walked to the bed. Merlin reached for an offered glass, nearly bumping into Arthur’s obvious erection in the process. He downed the champagne in one gulp and discarded the glass, so nervous he almost missed the table. “Um…You think you can put some pyjama bottoms on or something? Not that I mind the view. But…” Merlin was grateful for the low lights because he was certain his face was as crimson as Arthur’s pants.

“Oh! Sorry. I…Yeah, where is my luggage? Christ...” The room spun around and Arthur suddenly fell to the bed as he desperately tried to maintain his balance. “Bloody hell.” The bed was horrendously uncomfortable. And then Arthur realised he was using Merlin’s body as a pillow.

Merlin squirmed out from underneath him and placed his hand to Arthur’s chest, pushing him flat against the mattress. “Arthur, just go to sleep. You’ll feel better in the morning. I hope.”

“No, I need my clothes…”

“Shh…” Merlin tucked a blanket around Arthur’s body. “Sleep.” Merlin took another blanket – because, God, he wasn’t going to put himself in a position to be sexually frustrated all night by sharing the same covers as Arthur – and wrapped up tight on the other side of the bed.

His heartbeat soon thrummed more steadily as he watched Arthur’s chest rise and fall with heavy breaths. It would have been so easy to give into temptation and pour on the charm; the man was drunk enough Merlin was certain he could have at least sucked Arthur off without any protest. But Merlin wasn’t looking for an easy blow job or a quick one-off. He truly liked Arthur. Behind the arrogant sneer and sense of entitlement lurked someone who was fair and honest and tried to do the right thing. Merlin knew Arthur was a good man. He felt it.

Jet lag caught up with Merlin and he fell asleep quickly, halfway between the land of dreams and the reality of the warm body next to him. It was a rather fitful sleep with tossing and turning and strange voices in his head.

 _Merlin._

Tugging the blanket down until it pooled around his waist, Merlin suddenly felt too warm. He thrashed his head about, refusing to give in to the inevitability that he was already awake and keeping his eyes shut as tightly as he could. Breaths slowed with purpose as Merlin fought to clear his mind and relax into the soft bed. Vigilant and determined, he was certain he could trick his mind into peaceful slumber.

 _Merlin._

“Oh, bugger!”

Merlin flung the blanket from his body and sat up in disgust. His eyes turned towards Arthur, envious of the near comatose state of his bed partner who somehow still managed to look exceptionally gorgeous through light snoring and a spot of drool glistening in the dim firelight. Between the ceremony and the undoubtedly gazillion amount of photos to be taken, Merlin already saw himself nodding off through the festivities. Maybe if he was lucky, there’d be time for a nap.

 _Merlin._

Blue eyes widened in shock. Merlin was wide awake. He was most definitely wide awake, but he pinched his arm just to be certain.

 _Merlin._

“What the hell?”

A loud thump sounded, followed by a pained, “Ow!” when Merlin hit the hard floor, his knees taking the brunt of the fall. He scrambled to his feet, shaking and frightened by the obvious loss of his mind. Running to the other side of the bed, Merlin shook Arthur’s shoulder.

“Arthur! Wake up, Arthur! Do you hear that? Do you hear it?” he asked, panic rising up his throat.

All he received in return was a moan and Arthur turning his back towards him.

Flames shot out from the fireplace as if someone had doused it with petrol, the blaze taking on a peculiar shape the longer Merlin stared at it. A dragon.

 _Merlin._

And that’s when Merlin knew he was being summoned by Edgar Wyrm.

********

Merlin was absolutely terrified and yet a strange knowledge permeated his being, as if he’d walked this path many times before. No one told him where to go or gave him directions on how to get there. He just knew.

The cellar was dark and creepy and teeming with spider webs. In his mind, Merlin kept referring to the passageway as a cellar, knowing full well it was most likely a mediaeval dungeon, complete with devices of torture or other such things. The word “cellar” seemed more benign for some reason, and the use of it prevented Merlin from running away and hiding under the bed until Arthur awoke.

Unfortunately, Merlin was unable to find a torch but he did find matches and candles. Gruesome shadows along the stone walls were merely an unavoidable consequence, and certainly didn’t cause his heart to race uncontrollably in his chest whilst he walked past crypts and rooms filled with long-forgotten artefacts. As he neared a stairwell that plunged into the belly of the castle, a low sound rumbled from the black depths.

 _Merlin._

Sweat formed over Merlin’s brow the further down he walked, despite the cold temperature seeping through his thin t-shirt and tracksuit bottoms. He heard a scurry to his left and saw at least two rats in his peripheral vision. “Fuck,” he said, the echo of the expletive making it sound as if he’d bellowed it at the top of his lungs. Down, down, down he went until he came to a doorway hewn from rock. With a deep breath, Merlin overcame his dread and stepped forward to find himself on a ledge, staring down into a vast cave.

“I thought you’d never arrive.”

“Shit!” In Merlin’s fright, he jerked forward and the candle toppled over and fell from the cliff, the flame extinguished immediately upon the trajectory. He heard a click and suddenly a torch shone brightly in his eyes. Ducking his head, Merlin stepped back to gain perspective.

“Edgar.”

“Hello, Merlin. You’re looking well.”

“What the hell is going on?”

“I’m pleased you followed my advice and returned with the young Pendragon.”

“What does Arthur have to do with this? What do _I_ have to do with this? Is it something to do with Camelot buying that company you were part of?”

“Yes.”

Merlin rubbed his eyes and leant against cool, hard stone. “Well…What? Explain yourself!”

“Look into my eyes, Merlin.”

The man moved directly in front of Merlin, so close he felt Edgar’s breath warm his skin. Amber eyes glowed in the darkness, mesmerising Merlin as he stared into the swirling, converging colours of yellow, orange, and black.

The pictures were faded and fleeting like an old movie projector. Characters from the “film” included himself, Arthur, the old castle caretaker Gaius, a menacing man with a scar and a crown, a beautiful dark-haired woman, and even Gwen and Lancelot. As soon as he saw the dragon, Merlin knew it was Edgar. Terrible and fantastic creatures were woven in and out and he saw how they were slain by his hand with great power. Magic. Merlin felt it in the tips of his fingers, growing stronger and stronger the longer he gazed into the amber orbs.

“Ugh!” Sharp pain seared through his head as he saw the face of another beautiful woman; dark hair, white skin, and luminous blue eyes.

“Yes.” Edgar stepped back. “You see her. You _feel_ her. Nimueh. It’s only a matter of time before the sorceress will throw down the gauntlet to the House of Pendragon once again. You, Merlin, must stop her.”

“I…I don’t understand…”

“A long time ago, Nimueh cast a spell upon the whole of Camelot and shielded it from the memories of all those who came after it. No one remembers Camelot. It died when King Arthur died. And even though Arthur has lived again and again – just as you have, Merlin – the memories have crumbled to dust. Until now.

“A powerful weapon, a sword, has been under my charge for centuries. It has been hidden in the wide open by various means, most recently at a small company called Calibourne Fine Antiques and Artefacts. Unfortunately, Arthur came upon the company and decided to impress his father. Nimueh will not tolerate Arthur’s ownership of Excalibur.”

“Excalibur?”

“The sword that was forged for Arthur. Excalibur has the power to break her spell of Camelot’s concealment. Once those bonds are broken, Nimueh will become obsolete, essentially powerless. She will do everything and anything to keep that from happening.”

“But…Wait…” Merlin’s head pounded with such fury he was afraid it would implode. “Camelot? That’s the name of Arthur’s company.”

“It is the place King Arthur lived; where you also lived, young warlock.”

“This is fucking crazy. You…You’re a dragon. I mean, a _real_ dragon…”

“Yes, I was, until Nimueh cursed me to live an immortal life in human form. But you can change that, Merlin. You can give me back my life.”

“Who…What? Who is she? I…I can’t handle this…”

“Merlin! Open your mind. See the truth. Yours and Arthur’s destinies are one. You were always meant to protect him. And he needs your help now more than ever.”

“But what do I…Edgar?” Merlin spun around in the dark, suddenly feeling very alone. “Shit! Shit! A bit more information would have been nice! Christ! Couldn’t you have at least left the torch?” he shouted, the echo bouncing off the cave walls. “Fuck!”

After a near heart attack, Merlin began to ascend the stairs in utter blackness. He reached out and felt along the wall, shaking off a spider now and again whilst suppressing the impulse to scream like a girl.

“Magic,” he muttered. “It’d be nice to have some sodding magic right about now!”

All of a sudden, soft light shone in front of him. He turned to determine its origin and the light followed his movement. “Huh.” After several attempts to discover the source, Merlin finally realised that the glow was coming from his own eyes. Placing a hand in front of his face, the light illuminated his palm and fingers. He laughed. “Fucking brilliant!”

The journey up the stairs wasn’t nearly as terrifying as the journey down.

********

“What are you looking at?”

“You.”

Arthur rolled over and grunted. “Well, stop. It’s annoying. Will you bring me a glass of water and two paracetamol? My head is killing me…”

“It’s no wonder with all that drinking last night.”

Merlin jumped up and chuckled when Arthur groaned from being jostled. After rummaging through Arthur’s bag, and discovering a very interesting box of condoms among his belongings, Merlin found the pills and poured a glass of water.

“Here. Sit up. Who do you think I am, Arthur? Your nursemaid?”

“Nursemaid, butler, servant. Whatever.” He grabbed the medicine and glass, downing the pills in one gulp. “What? I’m just joking, Merlin. Really, you have no sense of humour.”

“Servant is an interesting word. Why’d you use it?”

“I don’t know. Who cares?”

“Maybe I should draw your bath; give you a good scrub down?”

Arthur’s eyes widened. “Christ, Merlin! I think I’m more than capable of bathing myself. What’s wrong with you? It’s too early in the morning for this nonsense.”

With a nod of his head, Merlin walked over to his suitcase on the floor and bent down to find something appropriate to wear. He decided on a popular weekend outfit: jeans and a t-shirt. The castle grounds were just begging to be explored. Merlin figured he’d have plenty of time to do a bit of sightseeing before he had to get ready for the wedding. Plus it would give him some time to reflect on destinies and sorceresses and things.

Memories from a long ago life were beginning to infiltrate his mind. He’d already stayed up all night to think about Arthur. Their master/servant relationship had been an odd one. Merlin speculated Arthur must have loved him greatly or else he wouldn’t have put up with his manservant’s insolence when he was a young prince. Even after Merlin had revealed his true self, Arthur had eventually forgiven him for all the deception. But they weren’t King Arthur and Merlin the Magician. They were just Arthur and Merlin, two blokes trying to get on in life in the 21st century the best way they knew how.

Arthur started to get out of bed until he realised he was nearly starkers. Right then and there, he swore off drinking for the remainder of the weekend. Or at least until the wedding reception. “Uh, could you throw my jeans over here?”

Merlin turned around and smiled. “No. I think you should get them yourself.”

“I’m not getting up, Merlin…”

“Why? I’ve already seen it…”

“ _It_? What do you mean ‘it’?”

“Um…Your big cock…”

“What?!?”

“Calm down, Arthur. I just saw you in your pants last night but…yeah, _it’s_ huge. Obviously.”

“Alright, that’s enough, Merlin. Please stop talking.”

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Quite the contrary.”

Arthur put his hands over his ears. “I’m not listening to this any longer. Shut up!”

“You really look ridiculous like that,” Merlin laughed.

“Oh, sod off, Merlin!” Arthur stood to his feet, and stomped across the floor, picking up his rumpled jeans from in front of the fireplace. “You see this?” he shouted and flexed his hips forward. “See my _huge cock_? You want to suck my _huge cock_?”

Merlin swallowed a lump in his throat when Arthur grabbed himself and squeezed. Words escaped Merlin so he just stared at the angry man, not exactly certain why Arthur was so angry. After a minute or two, Merlin whispered, “I’m sorry, Arthur.”

The colour drained from Arthur’s face and he walked towards Merlin with his jeans still crumpled in his hand. “No, I’m sorry, Merlin. I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me. I don’t have a huge cock. I _am_ a huge cock.”

Before Merlin could stop himself, he threw his arms Arthur and pulled him close, burying his face against the warm skin. “No, you’re not, Arthur! You’re a good man. I know it. You’re a good man.”

The close proximity of Merlin sent a wave of panic through Arthur. They were pressed so tightly together he felt the ridges and sharp bones of Merlin’s body fully against his own, particularly since Arthur didn’t have any barriers like clothes. Merlin’s nose nudged across his chest, seeking more and more contact whilst his fingers softly caressed Arthur’s bare back. The heady sensation put Arthur in a trance, unable to separate himself from the beautiful, dark-haired man in his arms. He tightened the embrace and leant into Merlin’s hair, breathing in herbal-scented shampoo. A small moan sounded and then Arthur felt a wet tongue over his skin. “Christ,” he whispered when his knees nearly gave out.

“I want you, Arthur. If you’ll have me. I’ll do anything; whatever you want. What do you want, Arthur?”

Merlin stood to his full height and looked into Arthur’s eyes. It was the first time Arthur noticed Merlin was a bit taller than he was.

“I don’t know, Merlin. This is…This is weird for me. I don’t get turned on by…” he stopped.

“Cock?” Merlin finished for him. “It’s okay. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. I won’t even get undressed so you don’t have to look at my skinny bare arse.” He chuckled at using Arthur’s own words. “Just let me…for you. Let me make you feel good.”

The normally confident Arthur had never been so skittish in his life. Or turned on, in spite of his earlier declaration. “What do you…What should we do?”

He half-turned towards the bed and Merlin took it as a sign of consent. Grasping Arthur’s hand, Merlin led him back across the room. “Lie down.”

Arthur tugged on the bedclothes and cast them aside. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

“Believe it,” Merlin grinned and pushed Arthur to the mattress. He knelt on the floor at the end of the bed. Arthur’s eyes grew wide when Merlin started at his feet, kissing his toes and sucking them into his mouth as he rubbed small circles along his heels.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to enjoy every inch of you.”

Merlin travelled up lean calves and nearly lost his focus once he reached bony knees, enjoying the hitched breaths during the revelation of Arthur’s ticklish spots. The soft hair on Arthur’s thighs was a treat Merlin found irresistible; trembling, flexing muscles contracted under his tongue and hands. Merlin grew even harder when he noticed how hard Arthur was through his boxers. Not able to draw it out any longer, Merlin nuzzled Arthur’s crotch and pulled on the waistband of his pants, freeing his cock and immediately going down on him.

“Christ!” Arthur groaned. The unexpected speed of Merlin’s intentions hit him full force. “Fuck!” he yelped in a high-pitched tone, pushing up into the warmth of Merlin’s mouth. Arthur wasn’t fifteen. He’d sworn his teenage years were behind him. Yet he proceeded to lose all control of his bodily functions as he came fast and hard, not giving Merlin a chance to pull off. “Shit! Sorry, Merlin…” He moaned through Merlin’s tongue lapping up every trace of semen.

Before Merlin had a chance to sit back and look smug, Arthur pulled his boxers up and scrambled out of bed to run away to the loo, without one word. Without one fucking word.

Merlin clasped the middle of his t-shirt and balled the cotton into his fist. He wasn’t going to cry. He just wasn’t.

********

The ceremony was beautiful and without incident. Gwen made a pretty bride and Lancelot looked as handsome as ever. Merlin even had to admit he didn’t look so bad himself in his charcoal tuxedo. He stood proudly by Gwen’s side and fought his emotions through their heartfelt vows. The weather couldn’t have been more perfect for an outdoor wedding, and the backdrop of the lavish castle grounds was truly a fairytale come to life.

Halfway through the ceremony, Merlin spied Arthur slinking in and taking a seat at the back. Although he only glanced for a moment, Merlin knew the prat looked amazing in his overpriced suit and blond hair blowing in the light breeze.

Damn him.

Merlin knew he had no one to blame but himself. Arthur Pendragon was a rubbish idea the first time he’d laid eyes on him, and he was still a rubbish idea. They came from different worlds, clashing worlds with no resolution in sight but heartache. Fuck Edgar – the dragon, whatever the hell his name was – fuck destiny, and fuck Arthur Pendragon!

Wandering aimlessly provided no comfort so Merlin decided to at least appear sociable. After making sure he said his goodbyes to Gwen and Lancelot before they headed off later that evening for a Caribbean honeymoon, Merlin offered his arm to an attractive young woman in a pale pink cocktail dress and led her to the marquee to sample the wide array of hors d'oeuvres and drinks. They stood at a bar and engaged in idle chit-chat whilst nibbling on spring rolls and goat cheese bites and sipping champagne. Merlin wanted nothing more than to return to the room, gather his belongings, and catch the first flight back to Boston.

“Would you care to dance?” the girl asked once they’d emptied the small plates and drained their glasses dry.

“Yeah.”

When they exited the tent to join the others on the dance floor, Merlin heard Will and Arthur arguing near a fountain just on the outskirts of the main reception area. “I’m sorry. Would you excuse me, please?” He practically jogged down the lawn with his heart in his throat as the voices got louder.

“I don’t know what he sees in you. Well, obviously, you’re a good shag. But you’re so pompous and cold…”

“You don’t know anything about me!”

“Arthur! Will! Stop! This is Gwen’s wedding day. I’ll not have either one of you ruin it.”

Arthur whirled around and gave Merlin a fierce glare. “I’m finished. I can’t do this anymore.”

“Arthur! Wait!”

Merlin gave Will a final scowl and chased Arthur back into the castle. “Arthur, please!”

For all of his “fuck Arthur” talk, Merlin was hopelessly in love. Love.

Damn him.

********

“Before you leave, I have a story to tell you.”

“I don’t care, Merlin.” Arthur threw the last of his clothes into the suitcase and slammed it shut.

Merlin took a calming, deep breath and contemplated his words carefully. He was amazed he’d remained cool and collected during Arthur’s initial tirade of stomping around the room whilst he changed into jeans, a cotton shirt, and trainers, right after chucking his ridiculously expensive suit. “What if I said it has to do with Edgar Wyrm? He’s the reason you came to the wedding, right?”

“No. Yes. I don’t know. I don’t know why I’m here, Merlin. You…confuse me.”

Confusion and fear were the reasons why Arthur had fled so quickly after Merlin gave him the most spectacular blow job of his life. After thorough deliberation, Arthur realised it had nothing to do with being heterosexual or homosexual or even bisexual. It had to do with Merlin. Merlin - at times the most infuriating person Arthur knew and also the most giving and funny and genuinely sweet person he knew – had somehow wormed his way into Arthur’s heart. He found himself thinking of Merlin at the most odd times, like when he was brushing his teeth and wondering if Merlin preferred the smell of spearmint over peppermint. There were so many little details about Merlin he knew nothing of, but Arthur wanted to learn everything. Everything. Yet it was a scary proposition. Arthur didn’t want to reveal his vulnerable side. He’d fought too hard through his life to preserve it.

Merlin stepped forward and grasped Arthur’s arm. “I don’t want to confuse you. I want us to be utterly transparent with each other. Come here and sit down.”

Throughout Merlin’s tale, Arthur remained quiet, only betraying his incredulous feelings every once in a while with a quirk of an eyebrow, roll of his eyes or frown on his lips. Merlin’s hands were clasped in his lap and, for the most part, he kept his eyes averted in order to get through his narrative.

“- …and that’s all.”

“Huh. That’s all, you say?” Arthur shifted on the bed and turned to face Merlin, placing both hands on either side of Merlin’s head whilst rotating it back and forth and up and down. “You do know you sound like you have a mental affliction, don’t you, Merlin? Come on. Magic and dragons and kings? I mean, really.”

Merlin shrugged Arthur’s hands away. “No, it’s true. I have magic. My eyes…They were like a torch in the dungeon…”

“Ha! Okay, Merlin, show me some of your _magic_.” Arthur bit his lip to keep from smiling so wide.

“You don’t believe me? Well, I’m not really sure what to do. I mean, the torch thing just sort of happened. But I’m sure with a little practise I’ll get better at it. Yes. Definitely.”

“Hmm…And you’re supposed to save me from some evil sorceress when you don’t even have a clue? I feel very safe with that knowledge.”

“Don’t make fun of me,” Merlin pointed his finger in Arthur’s face. “I’m serious.”

Arthur laughed. “I’m sure you are, Merlin. But your seduction technique leaves little to be desired.”

“Seduction technique?”

“Yes. You tell me we were lovers in a past life. And now you think that I’m just going to fall into bed with you?”

Merlin stood and turned his back to Arthur. After a deep, calming breath he whirled around. “I don’t think anything of the sort. I admit it’s no secret that I’m attracted to you, but obviously you don’t feel the same way. And that’s alright. I didn’t tell you this story to entice you into sex. There is something very strange going on here and I’m concerned that you are in danger.”

“And you want to save me? That’s very sweet, Merlin, but hardly necessary. I can take care of myself.”

Arthur flinched when Merlin clasped his chin and lifted his head so their eyes locked. “I know you can take care of yourself. But it doesn’t show weakness to accept someone’s help. If anything, it shows a person’s strength to realise they don’t have to do everything alone. We are in this together and I need for you to come to terms with that.”

Turning his head, Arthur slipped from Merlin’s grasp. “I can’t. This entire thing is preposterous.”

The mattress dipped when Merlin sat back down, his thigh against Arthur’s. He reached for Arthur’s hand and squeezed tight. “Don’t you feel it? Some sort of connection between us? I’m not speaking of a sexual connection but something much more. Arthur, it’s ingrained in me. I feel like I would do anything to protect you. I would move Heaven and Earth if that’s what it takes. I can’t explain it, but it’s true. You mean everything to me.”

A lump formed in Arthur’s throat. He didn’t want to mean “everything” to anyone. Giving in to that depth of emotion was not in his nature. Yet when Arthur looked into Merlin’s eyes, he felt a tug unlike any other he’d experienced in his entire life. There was something about Merlin, a strange bond between them that made no sense. And it wasn’t _just_ sexual, although Arthur suspected that it did have something to do with it. He wondered what it would be like to cast off the pretence of needing no one, defying impossible odds by grabbing onto something solid and quite possibly amazing.

“So, you didn’t tell me this insane tale to try to get me into bed?”

Merlin shook his head. “Of course not.”

“What if I wanted it?”

“What?” Merlin whispered.

Arthur leant in close, heart beating soundly in his chest. Those full lips had been in more than one of Arthur’s fantasies, teasing and driving him wild with desire to possess them. It ended up being so much easier than he had anticipated. He cupped Merlin’s face and brought their mouths together in a gentle kiss, tasting the sweet remnants of champagne. Their lips opened slowly and slid together at a lazy pace. Tongues dipped into unknown territory, hesitant at first but more daring as the moments passed until it was a give-no-quarter attack of colliding mouths, tongues, and teeth. In Arthur’s zeal, he pushed Merlin back against the mattress and his body followed, blanketing Merlin whilst never separating their lips. “God, you’re beautiful,” he moaned, coming up for air before diving back down and nipping Merlin’s neck.

“Is this alright?” he asked in-between frantic kisses. They’d suddenly turned a corner, and Arthur was certain he didn’t want to go back.

“God, yes,” Merlin panted, fumbling underneath the hem of Arthur’s t-shirt to feel the soft skin of his lower stomach, muscles trembling underneath his touch.

Arthur lifted up to his elbows and surveyed the inordinate amount of cloth between himself and Merlin. The dark tuxedo was rather fetching on Merlin, albeit wrinkled and certainly in the way at this point in time. “Sit up.” Merlin obeyed with robotic motion, as if he were in a dream he hoped to never wake from. Arthur also sat up in a straddled position over Merlin’s lap and nudged his arms out to begin peeling the jacket from his body. The obvious hard-on in Merlin’s trousers catapulted Arthur to experimentally rub his body back and forth over it as he continued to slip the white dress shirt off, motion increasing in effort with every small moan out of Merlin’s mouth. Once Merlin’s upper body was fully revealed, Arthur shoved him back down to the bed and began kissing and licking the pale skin.

The sensation was unlike anything Arthur had ever felt before, not the smooth curves of a woman’s body but hard lines and bony edges. Merlin was thin yet there was enough meat on his bones to garner a visual and sensual feast for Arthur’s eyes and hands and lips. Sparse chest hair tickled Arthur’s nose and he chuckled when he realised he was, in fact, on top of another man and enjoying every moment of it.

Boldness soon changed to hesitation when Arthur reached down for Merlin’s belt. He saw the outline of Merlin’s erection through his trousers and panic spread quickly as Arthur nearly lost his nerve. The only man he’d ever pleasured had been himself.

Merlin felt the quick shift in Arthur’s approach. He clasped Arthur’s hands. “Let me. Move over.”

With a small smile of relief and nod of his head, Arthur rolled onto his back, breathing heavily and suddenly feeling very warm.

After stripping down to his pants, Merlin turned on his side and placed a hand in the middle of Arthur’s chest. He stared into Arthur’s blue eyes, wide and uncertain. “We don’t have to do anything, Arthur,” Merlin murmured and softly caressed Arthur’s body through thin cotton.

“No, I want to. I’m just, you know, sort of…nervous.”

“I didn’t think you got nervous,” he chuckled. “May I?” Merlin asked, tugging on Arthur’s shirt.

“Yeah.”

Merlin slowly divested Arthur of his shirt, taking pleasurable liberties of massaging hard muscles along the way. Arthur was the most gorgeous specimen Merlin had ever seen. He bent down to capture Arthur’s lips and grinned through the kiss when he felt an enthusiastic hand grasp his arse. “I want you, Arthur,” Merlin whispered, “inside me.”

Speed and precision had never been one of Merlin’s strong suits, but he rid Arthur and himself of the rest of their clothes in record time, laughing when their limbs got tangled in his haste. After leaving the bed for a few seconds to dig around in Arthur’s bag to find a condom, Merlin returned with the foil packet and a travel-size bottle of hand lotion. “Did you think you were going to get lucky this weekend?” Merlin smirked.

“Maybe with a bridesmaid,” Arthur returned the smirk. “Not the _man of honour_.”

Eyes narrowed whilst Arthur watched Merlin smear lotion on his fingers and reach behind his body to prepare himself. Arthur gulped, “I’m not…I don’t want to hurt you…”

“No, no, you won’t,” Merlin said, breaths speeding up the longer he fingered himself. “It’s been a while but I know what I’m doing.”

Merlin shifted his attention to Arthur’s dick, Arthur nearly coming unglued as Merlin rolled the condom on and liberally applied the lotion with long, teasing strokes, setting his senses afire. Before Arthur’s brain had time to catch up with his body, Merlin eased down in small increments until Arthur was completely surrounded by tight heat. “Oh, fuck.”

“Stay with me, Arthur,” Merlin moaned, remembering how fast Arthur had lost it earlier that morning.

“Christ, Merlin. Move!”

That was all the encouragement Merlin needed. He clasped Arthur’s sides and lifted up, only to slam back down with surprising force, pleasure and desire evident in Arthur’s blown pupils.

The pace was quick and then it was slow, agonisingly slow until Arthur latched onto Merlin’s flanks and pushed his hips up, rapidly growing accustomed to the amazing feel of Merlin’s body against his own.

Merlin threw his head back and groaned. “Oh, God, yes, Arthur. Right there. Right. There.”

As with most everything, Arthur caught on fast and angled his hard thrusts in the same spot, again and again, mesmerised by Merlin’s reaction of pained yet ecstatic facial expressions with every shove forward. He felt his orgasm building and he lessened the force into Merlin’s body, intent on making himself last as long as was humanly possible. Taking the initiative, Arthur reached for Merlin’s cock and gave it a few tugs. The position seemed awkward but he sensed Merlin was appreciating his efforts of clumsily bringing him off.

Merlin unfurled his legs and pushed his feet into the mattress, burrowing his way underneath Arthur’s body whilst moving forward and then wrapping his arms around the strong shoulders. After falling to his back and coaxing Arthur down on top of him, Merlin splayed his legs open even wider and invited the man to completely debauch him. The lines of reality and fantasy blurred when Merlin cupped Arthur’s arse in his hands and guided their glorious fucking with maniacal rotation of his hips.

“Fuck,” Arthur panted. Quick, in and out flicks gave way to long and deep thrusts as he rubbed blunt fingernails across Merlin’s chest. A sudden need to kiss Merlin overcame him and he bent down to do just that, surprisingly sweet and gentle in the midst of the shag of his life.

The added friction of Arthur’s mouth and the slide of the slick belly against his trapped cock sent Merlin over the edge. With a loud grunt he came hard and spilled himself between their bodies.

Arthur reared back and held onto the sides of Merlin’s hips for dear life, driving fast into his body until orgasm hit him full force and spread unbelievable pleasure throughout his entire being. He stopped his momentum but refused to relinquish their closeness by pulling out just yet. Instead, he fell to Merlin’s chest and wrapped his arms around the slim body whilst his back was encircled by Merlin’s legs.

They lay quietly for a while, spent and sweaty and trying to catch their breaths before Arthur finally separated their bodies and rolled to his side. “Jesus Christ,” he said with a wide smile. As he tied off the condom and threw it in the bin, Arthur practically purred, “So, _that’s_ what gay sex is all about?”

“Mmm…” Monosyllabic moans were about all Merlin could manage. He reached over with a limp hand and brushed back Arthur’s damp bangs. “Mmm…”

“You shouldn’t have sucked me off earlier without a condom,” Arthur chastised with soft kiss to Merlin’s nose.

“You have a disease?” Merlin asked as he used a corner of the sheet to clean their bodies.

“No, but you don’t know that.”

Merlin snuggled into Arthur’s warm chest. “I trust you, Arthur. I trust you.”

********

Merlin awoke with a muscled body against his back and a strong arm draped over his chest. The sun was high in the sky if the bright room was any indication. He felt like he’d slept half a lifetime - the best kind of sleep – deep and relaxed and surrounded by warmth. As soon as Merlin stirred by smacking his mouth and nuzzling into his pillow, the arm tightened and lips ghosted over his neck.

“Morning,” a voice croaked.

The intimacy which carried over from a most incredible night into the next day surprised Merlin. He had been certain Arthur would wake up with regrets and hastily retreat into the more familiar territory of emotional walls, intent upon distancing himself from Merlin and their night of pleasure. But Arthur not only didn’t pull away, he seemed to relish the closeness of their bodies, pressing in tight until Merlin felt his erection at the small of his back.

“For a bloke, you smell really good,” Arthur murmured into his ear and then nipped it with his teeth. He dragged his nose over Merlin’s neck and quickly moved his mouth to kiss along his rough jaw line. “Christ, you need to shave, Merlin. This is what women have to put up with?”

Merlin laughed and turned over to clumsily scrape his cheek over Arthur’s face. “So, you’re the _woman_ in this relationship, hmm?”

The term “relationship” didn’t go unnoticed by Arthur but he chose to disregard it as well as all the ramifications the word included. “No, I’m not the _woman_ ,” Arthur scowled. After a slap to Merlin’s arse, he smiled. “I’d think after buggering you all night, you’d realise that.”

“ _All night_? Where was I when this was happening ‘all night’? If I remember correctly, you fell asleep after the first go ’round.”

“As if you didn’t, too!”

“I admit it. You had me completely knackered. Haven’t slept that well in years. Ever, really. But I wouldn’t be opposed to round two this morning…”

The words were hardly out of Merlin’s mouth before Arthur swooped in with an unexpected fierce kiss, proprietary and insistent. Somehow, Merlin’s unshaven skin didn’t seem to be nearly as bothersome once Arthur’s tongue was practically down his throat. In fact, the way Arthur’s hands continued to brush against Merlin’s face sent a clear message he was rather enamoured by the stubble instead of turned off.

“I want you, Merlin.”

“Oh, God, yes.”

“But we shouldn’t.”

Arthur extracted his arms and legs – when had they become so tangled? – and stood up with a sheet wrapped around his lower body. Merlin’s jaw dropped as he watched Arthur walk towards the loo. All the happiness he’d felt in the past few minutes came crashing down when he realised Arthur was planning on pulling away from him, after all. Again.

“What’s with the long face, Merlin? I said _we shouldn’t_ because we have a plane to catch. No time for a lie in or anything else. But later…yes. Definitely.” He waggled his eyebrows up and down until Merlin grinned. “That’s better. I won’t be long and then you can get ready. Oh, and don’t forget to shave. My delicate skin can’t take it.” He caressed his face whilst blue eyes sparkled and an impish grin spread over his mouth.

“You’re a fucking tease,” Merlin pouted as Arthur laughed.

The door slammed shut and Merlin’s pillow hit the dark wood. “Prat,” he grumbled with the edges of his lips turned up in a smile.

Merlin climbed out of bed and swiped Arthur’s t-shirt from the floor, putting it on and breathing in the scent of faint cologne and _just Arthur_. He had half a mind to nick it and never let it see another wash again. With a beleaguered sigh, Merlin hauled his luggage to the mattress to begin the process of packing. His knuckles grazed something hard beneath a pair of folded jeans. “What the hell?” he whispered when he removed the garment and found a thick book lying on the bottom of the suitcase.

After unclasping the bronze fastener, Merlin turned the well-worn pages carefully and stared at the scrawl of an unfamiliar language. Some of the pages were loose and many pages bore different styles of handwriting, like a community diary of sorts. Drawings, some crude and others quite stunning in their detail, accompanied various passages of text. He flipped through the book in awe, certain of its connection to him but not exactly clear on the particulars.

Running his finger over a gleaming title on one of the pages, Merlin stumbled over the beginning word. “Lé…Lé…oht…fæt…Léoht…fæt…Léohtfæt… Léohtfæt…”

A gust of wind swept into the room and Merlin quickly glanced at the closed window. His heart raced as he moved towards the glass, stopping in his tracks as he saw the reflection of a lit candle in the wall mirror. “Fucking hell.” Striding to the dresser, Merlin knelt to the floor and gazed eye-level at the flickering flame. With a jolt of confidence, Merlin blew the candle out and uttered, “Léohtfæt,” again, only to be amazed when the fire rekindled after his eyes turned golden for an instant. He stared into the dresser mirror, widening then narrowing his eyes in curiosity. “Fucking hell!” he shouted in triumph.

********

The detour to England sent Merlin’s nerves into overdrive. Arthur determined once they’d left the castle and arrived at Cardiff Airport it would be prudent to acquaint himself with his supposed sword-of-destiny. Merlin was hardly surprised, yet he was a bit disappointed to land at Heathrow rather than Logan International. He wanted more of Arthur, of the fairytale, before digging in with both feet on a quest to get to the bottom of the mysterious Calibourne Fine Antiques and Artefacts. He should have known Arthur wanted to hit the ground running. Although Arthur took Merlin’s “story” with a grain of salt, Merlin knew he was intrigued with tales of heroics, sorcery, and destiny.

“We’ll stay at my flat but I don’t want anyone at Camelot, particularly my father, to know I’m here. I’ll have to call a cleaning service …”

“What? You can’t even clean your own flat?”

Arthur’s jaw clenched and then relaxed. “Merlin,” he began as though Merlin were a five year old child, “my flat has been empty for over a year now. It will need a good scrubbing and I’d rather spend my time pursuing your far-fetched idea of magical swords and witches and whatever else than mopping the place up. Understand?”

“It’s not far-fetched, Arthur. It’s true. I know it. I can feel it.”

“Yes, feel it, know it, whatever.” Arthur waved his hand dismissively. “I’m still waiting to see your magic tricks.”

Merlin slid to the other side of the taxi’s backseat and leant in close to Arthur’s face, studying his features intently. “You think I’m mental. You don’t believe a word I’ve said, do you? I’ll show you when we get to your flat. I can light a candle…”

“Fantastic! I can, too. With a little invention I like to call _matches_. It doesn’t matter, Merlin. I want to get to the bottom of why Edgar Wyrm has been messing with your head, and what my company has to do with it. Let’s not argue. Please.”

Conceding the battle but not the war, Merlin rested his head against Arthur’s shoulder and watched traffic through the taxi window in silence. He’d show him. Once he further studied the mysterious book, Merlin knew he would impress Arthur with his mad magician skills.

When Merlin was just about to nod off, they finally arrived at Arthur’s North London flat. Arthur put the bags down and fumbled with his keys whilst Merlin fidgeted behind him. Nervous energy bubbled up from his feet to the tips of his fingers. He couldn’t believe he was actually about to walk into Arthur Pendragon’s flat with the title of Lover rather than Annoying Uni Student With a Hopeless Crush; the idea of Lover was ridiculous and yet Merlin couldn’t have been more pleased.

The flat looked surprisingly lived in. Merlin was even further astonished when he suddenly came face-to-face with one of the beautiful dark-haired women he’d seen in his vision of the past; the one who didn’t give him the fright of his life.

“Merlin, this is my…this is Morgana, my sometimes sister and nearly always nemesis. She has…uh…” he paused to scan the surroundings, “apparently taken over my flat.”

“Shut up, Arthur.” Her eyes twinkled when she took Merlin’s hand. “It’s very nice to meet you, Merlin. Just ignore everything he’s told you about me.”

Merlin smiled. “Um, he hasn’t really said all that much. Nothing bad, of course.”

Her nose scrunched up in a cute little pout. “Oh, Merlin, you’re a horrible liar. That’s a good thing, by the way.”

They were walking from the foyer to the lounge, Merlin in the lead, when Morgana stopped Arthur with her hand. “He’s delightful,” she whispered with a mischievous grin.

“Shut up, Morgana,” Arthur hissed and rolled his eyes.

Arthur was actually quite pleased Morgana seemed to approve. When he’d phoned Morgana to tell her he would be in town for a few days accompanied by a friend, she straight away sensed there was something he wasn’t telling her. “Who is the unlucky lady?” she had joked, sobering immediately when Arthur had informed her “the lady” was, in fact, a man. Very quickly Arthur realised if he was going to have Merlin in his life, and he most certainly was _determined_ to have Merlin in his life, he’d need someone on his side. Seriously doubting his father would be on board with his new-found sexual proclivities, Arthur knew he could count on Morgana. Even if he also knew he’d be fair game for her incessant taunts.

“And just _why_ are you here, Morgana?” Arthur asked as he joined Merlin on the sofa.

Merlin slid his hand across Arthur’s thigh and clasped his hand, a little nervous under the scrutiny of Morgana’s intense gaze.

Taking a seat on the adjacent chaise, Morgana stared at the two of them for a moment in quiet contemplation before she smiled. “I’m here to get away from Uther’s all-seeing eye, if you must know.”

“Why don’t you stay in your own flat?”

“Because Uther has the doorman in his back pocket. I’ve sort of been seeing someone and I’m not ready to hear it from your father…”

“So you’ve turned my home into a lovers’ den? That’s a bit rude.”

“He just picks me up at your flat before we go out. We haven’t been doing anything here, Arthur. Except that one time right there.” She pointed a well-manicured finger to the exact spot where Arthur and Merlin were sitting on the sofa and giggled when Arthur’s body jerked in horror. “I’m joking, Arthur. Don’t get your knickers in a twist.”

“Very funny,” he scowled.

“So, tell me, Merlin, what do you do?”

“What do I do? Um…I’m a student at M.I.T. and I work part-time at my best friend’s coffeehouse.”

“What are you studying?”

“Chemical engineering.”

“Interesting,” she mused. “Arthur doesn’t usually like to date someone smarter than him. Of course, that doesn’t take much…”

“Shut the hell up, Morgana! What is wrong with you?”

“Sorry. I’m teasing, obviously.” Her tone indicated that may not be entirely the case.

Merlin shifted uncomfortably and squeezed Arthur’s hand tighter. “Well, I think Arthur’s brilliant.”

“Do you?” She leant forward in curiosity.

“Yeah, I mean, he’d have to be to run such a successful business…”

“Well, Arthur doesn’t exactly _run_ Uther’s business.”

“No, but I’m not stupid either, Morgana.”

Morgana looked genuinely shocked. “I never said you were stupid, Arthur. I know you’re not. I just think you’re wasting your talents at Camelot, that’s all.”

“You think everyone is wasting their talents at Camelot. Just remember where your money comes from; the money you use to finance your extravagant taste and boyfriends and whatever else. If it wasn’t for Camelot, you might actually have to get a job.”

“I have a job…”

“Volunteering for whatever cause you deem the noblest at this particular point in time is not a job. Must we continue on? I didn’t come home to fight with you, Morgana.”

“No, of course not.” She stood to her feet and stepped over to Merlin, kissing him on the cheek. “I’m sorry, Merlin. I’d be lying if I said we weren’t normally like this, but it’s all in good fun. Right, Arthur?”

“Oh, it’s always a joy, Morgana.” His grimace soon turned into a small grin and then an all-out laugh. “God, I’ve missed you. What the hell is wrong with me?”

“I’ve wondered that most of my life,” she winked. “Well, I’ll take my leave and let you two get settled. I’m sure I’ll see you next Sunday for brunch?”

“No! No, Morgana. I told you Father doesn’t know I’m in London and I’d like to keep it that way for the time being.”

“Why? What’s going on? Is it because of…” she paused and waved her hand between Arthur and Merlin.

“No. Well, not entirely. Just give me a while and then I’ll let Father know.”

Morgana gave him a worried glance. “Alright, Arthur. I’m sure you know what you’re doing.”

“Yeah. I do. I hope,” Arthur added with a whisper.

********

The sun had barely risen when Arthur awoke. After slipping into a navy silk dressing gown, he quietly crept from the bedroom and made his way to the kitchen in the hopes of putting a pot of coffee on. He smiled at the vase of fresh flowers in the middle of the kitchen island, obviously Morgana’s doing. The cupboards weren’t overflowing, but Morgana had clearly gone shopping in anticipation of Arthur’s return. It wasn’t long before the coffeepot beeped and Arthur scurried around for a cup, opening the fridge with the anticipation of fresh milk. Unfortunately, everything _but_ milk seemed to reside there. “Bugger.” He imagined Morgana had intentionally left it off her shopping list just to be contrary. The coffee was bitter but at least it was hot and loaded with caffeine.

With his cup in hand, Arthur stepped outside into the garden to inspect the landscaping. He was delighted to see that his assistant had found a gardener with good taste when it came to flowers and shrubbery. Crisp borders and organised rows of graduated colour met with Arthur’s approval. As with all things, Arthur appreciated order and pleasing aesthetics.

He sighed loudly and took a large gulp of coffee, wincing when the hot liquid scalded his throat as it went down. For one who appreciated order so much, it was almost laughable how chaotic his life had become since a tall, skinny young man with delusions of being a wizard had entered his life. Arthur was now taking weekend trips to attend weddings of people he didn’t really know, not to mention returning home for a reconnaissance mission to find out why a stranger was hell-bent on his attendance at said wedding. Of course, there were also the fanciful tales of entwined destinies and magical swords and Arthur being a reincarnation of a long ago King. It seemed that Arthur’s precious order was fleeting at best.

And then there was Merlin himself. Arthur had never felt such a connection with a lover before. It was lust and madness and sweetness and a strange sense of loyalty all rolled into one. Arthur still had difficulty at times grasping the concept he was sleeping with a man, but he loved the possessive emotions Merlin welled up inside him. Merlin was his, at least for now. If Arthur believed nothing else, he knew within his soul that Merlin cared for him and wanted to protect him from whatever he felt put Arthur in harms way; even though Arthur was skeptical of Merlin’s beliefs.

After emptying his cup, Arthur returned to the kitchen and turned the news on to drown out his thoughts. The second cup of coffee tasted no better than first, yet Arthur finally began to fully wake up.

“Morning.”

Arthur looked up to see Merlin’s sleepy form walking across the floor with his dark hair sticking up in all sorts of strange ways. He couldn’t suppress a chuckle at the sight.

“Why are you laughing?”

“You, Merlin. My God, look at you.”

“Sorry. We can’t all be perfect model-types like you, Arthur.”

“Oh, please.” Arthur rolled his eyes and patted the bar stool next to him in invitation. Hopping onto the seat, Merlin reached over and snatched Arthur’s cup to take a sip.

“Ugh…That’s awful.”

“Yes, it is. We’ll have to stop by the market sometime today for necessities.”

Arthur’s eyes travelled down Merlin’s bare chest and landed on low-slung pyjama bottoms, barely covering the crack of his arse. “Unless you want to stay in today?”

Merlin’s grin grew hopeful and maybe just a little naughty. “Really?”

“No.” Arthur looked him up and down, once again. “No,” he repeated determinedly, shaking his head. “We have entirely too many things to do today. You need to…put some clothes on.”

A smirk and a wink let Arthur know that Merlin was on to him. He could act nonchalant about the way Merlin affected him; ignore the way his fingers itched to touch Merlin’s body and how his lips ached to glide along pale skin. However, when push came to shove, there was no denying how hot Arthur was for Merlin. And Merlin, the cheeky bugger, was all too aware of it. It was almost enough to make Arthur try doubly hard to resist the young man’s charms. Almost.

********

“I don’t know how to do this,” Arthur said, hands gripping the steering wheel tightly.

“Do what?”

They sat in the almost abandoned car park of Calibourne Fine Antiques and Artefacts. The business wasn’t the sort to attract loads of customers; only someone of considerable means would be able to afford the museum-quality wares housed at Camelot’s newest acquisition.

“I can’t just walk in there and start snooping around. I’m sure they’d recognise me immediately.”

“Yeah, but then you could have your run of the place.”

“But I don’t want my father to know I’m in town.”

“Why? I don’t understand.”

Arthur turned to fully face Merlin. “I just don’t want him to know yet. I don’t want to deal with it.”

“Deal with what?”

“Ah…It’s complicated. First of all, he’ll be angry I left Boston without informing him.”

“It was a weekend trip! You’re not allowed to take time off work?”

“No. I’m a Pendragon. My duties always come first. Always. Besides, it’s not the weekend anymore. Thank God Marcus is in Boston to cover for me if my father rings.”

“Who is Marcus?”

“My assistant. Anyway, how am I going to get in there undetected?”

“I’ll…I’ll go in.”

“You?” Arthur frowned skeptically.

“Yes. Me. I’ll pretend I’m looking for a weapon for…um…my collection.”

Arthur chuckled. “You’ll go in there with your jeans and your god-awful hoodies…”

“What’s wrong with my hoodies?!?”

“…and you’ll do what exactly?”

“I’ll cause a diversion. So you can sneak in.”

“Oh, God,” Arthur groaned and rubbed his jaw. “What the hell was I thinking? This is a bad idea…”

“No, no!” Merlin shouted. “It will be kind of fun. Stealthy.” He raised his eyebrows up and down and grinned. “Besides, there can’t be that many people in there.”

“No, just the curator and two heavily-armed guards, I expect. Maybe one or two patrons.”

“Heavily-armed?” Merlin gulped.

“Indeed.”

“Alright,” Merlin sighed and reached for the door handle. “Let’s get on with it then.”

“Wait! Merlin!”

Arthur reached for Merlin’s arm and began pawing at the hem of his grey hoodie. “You don’t need two! Christ, it’s 23 degrees outside!”

“I’m thin! I get chilled easily!” Merlin grimaced and tried to squirm out of Arthur’s grasp. “Stop it! What are you doing?”

“Give me the grey hoodie. At least I can try to conceal my identity.”

Suddenly, Merlin stilled. “Oh. Right. Sorry,” he added with a sheepish grin and stripped the top layer off.

The building seemed like a ghost town except for a tall, hulking guard who stood at his post near a tapestry which depicted an epic battle scene along the east wall. White stone platforms and glass display cases were arrayed throughout the main floor, housing various helmets, fencing and battle swords, axes, lances, breastplates, gauntlets, and guns from the World War II era. Roman, Samurai, Mediaeval, Greek, even Native American tomahawks had their share of the spotlight. A vibrant rug partially blanketed the marble floor and three small seating areas were positioned around the perimeter of the lower level as well as a large contemporary desk stationed near the back wall. The ultra-modern décor and ancient relics made for an odd yet extremely visually-appealing marriage.

Arthur had never set foot inside Calibourne before, although he’d studied the business enough during Camelot’s procurement to know the inventory and lay of the land like the back of his hand. It was no wonder Uther had been pleased by Arthur’s pursuit of the ripe-for-a-takeover company; archaic weaponry was the zenith of Camelot’s passion. Calibourne was teeming with every sort of war toy Uther or anyone else could imagine.

A staircase flanked by two suits of armour led up to the private collection displays and Calibourne offices. Tours of the rooms with the priceless collections were by appointment only. Arthur worried his bottom lip and wondered how they were going to gain enough freedom to fully inspect the place.

The scruffy pair walked further inside and the surly guard immediately greeted them with a suspicious glance. Arthur pulled the hood further down over his head and kept his eyes cast to the floor.

“May I help you?” the guard asked.

Merlin shifted uncomfortably when he saw the large gun holstered at the bulky man’s side. “Um…Yes. I’m here…I mean…We’re here…um…”

“We’d like to see the Ninigi Collection,” Arthur interjected.

“Do you have an appointment with Ms. Fox?”

 _Ms. Fox?_ Arthur thought.

“Yes! Yes…we do.” Merlin gave him a nervous smile.

“And your name?”

“M…Marcus. My name is Marcus.” Merlin ignored Arthur’s eye roll and continued, “Smith. Marcus Smith.”

“Wait here.” He gestured to an even larger security guard whilst escorting Arthur and Merlin to one of the black leather couches. “Thomas, tell Ms. Fox that Mr. Smith and…I’m sorry. Who are you?” he asked, glancing in Arthur’s direction.

Merlin sputtered, “This is Arthur. My…uh…solicitor. Arthur…Smith.”

“Smith? Uh huh.” The guard narrowed his eyes. “What are you playing at? Shouldn’t you be in school or something?”

“Excuse me?!?”

Merlin’s sudden offence nearly had Arthur roaring in laughter.

“I would like to see Ms. Fox this instant!” Merlin demanded petulantly.

“Of course, sir. My apologies. Thomas, please let Ms. Fox know her next appointment is here.”

“Who is Ms. Fox?” Arthur asked as the guard began to turn his back to them.

He half-turned with a dubious expression and said, “The curator. She’ll be with you in a moment.”

When the guard stepped away and resumed his former stance near the tapestry, Arthur punched Merlin in the arm and whispered, “What the fuck was that? Christ, Merlin. Mr. and Mr. Smith? Very smooth.”

“Shut up and start sleuthing.”

“ _Sleuthing_?” Arthur plopped down next to Merlin on the sofa. “Oh, dear Lord, help me. What do you expect me to do? He’s right _there_.”

Suddenly, Merlin’s blue eyes widened in terror. “Oh, fuck. Arthur, it’s her. It’s _her_.” He jostled Arthur’s arm to get his attention.

“What? Who? Ms. Fox?”

A beautiful dark-haired woman walked down the staircase with a well-dressed older gentleman and Thomas the Guard in tow. She had a thick book in her hand and she placed it on the cherry wood desk, leaning towards the older man in deep conversation as she splayed the book open. Long, red fingernails glided over the pages as the pair studied the book intently, speaking to each other in low tones.

“This isn’t a good idea, Arthur. We need to go. Now.”

“What the hell are you going on about? This was _your_ idea,” Arthur hissed.

Something didn’t sit right with Arthur either. He knew that the curator of Calibourne was a man in his late fifties named Peter Bennington – certainly not someone called _Ms. Fox_. Yet stubbornness welled up in Arthur and he couldn’t just give in to Merlin’s demand for a hasty retreat. They needed more information.

Merlin shifted on the couch and faced Arthur with a glare. “This wasn’t _my_ idea. You’re the one who wanted to barge in here and go snooping around…”

“ _You’re_ the one who made up that ridiculous story of some sorceress trying to kill me or whatever.”

“Yeah, and she’s right fucking there.” Merlin nodded his head towards the dark-haired woman. “That’s Nimueh. Why don’t we just go introduce ourselves and she can wave her magic hand and kill us both?”

Arthur shook his head. “Can you please be a little more dramatic, Merlin? Christ!”

The last word burst forth from Arthur’s mouth much louder than he had intended. Suddenly, they had an attentive audience as the hushed conversation ceased and all eyes were upon them.

“Shit,” Arthur whispered under his breath when the woman suddenly began to walk across the floor, high heels clicking against the marble.

“Good morning, gentlemen. May I help you?” She stopped within a few metres of them and folded her arms crossly.

Luminous blue eyes narrowed and both men seemed momentarily paralysed as if suddenly caught in crosshairs.

Merlin swallowed a lump in his throat. “We…have an appointment to see the… Ninigi Collection.”

“Really?” she frowned. “I don’t recall having another appointment until this afternoon. Who did you speak with?”

With a barely audible sigh, Arthur stood and shook the hood off, reaching out with his hand. He figured he may as well just jump in the fire with both feet. “We didn’t really speak with anyone. I just wanted to see it. Arthur Pendragon, at your service.”

“Mr. Pendragon?” She clasped her throat and then quickly took his offered hand. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea you were here waiting.” She half-turned and gave the guard a glare before once more focussing on the blond. “Nimueh Fox. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise.” Arthur gestured towards Merlin. “This is…Marcus. He’s my assistant.”

“Marcus. Good to make your acquaintance.”

Merlin rose and tentatively reached out to meet her in a handshake. Upon contact, a searing pain shot through Merlin’s head and he winced, nearly groaning out loud in the process. When his eyes had fully opened again, he saw the same pained expression mirrored on the woman.

“I’m…” she faltered. “I’m so sorry. Would you please excuse me?”

She turned and stepped away quickly, rubbing her temples and exiting through a side door.

The man and guards stared at Merlin and Arthur as if they had two heads apiece before Thomas walked over to them and asked in a low voice, “Is everything alright?”

“Yes,” Arthur said at the same time Merlin said, “No.”

“Arthur, we need to leave. Right now.” With a quick twist of Arthur’s wrist, Merlin steered him in the direction of the door. “Now, Arthur.”

“For Christ’s sakes, Merlin…” Arthur whinged.

…and didn’t stop whinging until they were nearly at Arthur’s car.

“Get in, Arthur. We have to go. I’m telling you. Something is seriously fucked up.”

“Merlin, we need to find out what’s going on…”

“Arthur! Just get in the fucking car!”

Seething and gritting his teeth, Arthur climbed in the driver’s seat and slammed the door. Without another word spoken between them, Arthur raced out of the car park like a madman, tyres screeching and just daring anyone to get in his way.

Neither one of them saw the dark figure dressed in black from head toe, leaning against the side of the building with a smile on thin lips.

********

“Arthur,” Merlin said softly. “You can’t ignore me forever.”

Arthur sat on the edge of the bed and bent down to slip on a pair of Italian dress shoes. Without saying a word, he got up and rummaged around for a tie, finally deciding on a Hermès silk twill in pale blue. His chest was bare and his belt not yet fastened as he scoured the closet for a suitable shirt, ignoring Merlin’s big blue eyes pleading for acknowledgement.

“Arthur…”

“I’m not speaking to you.”

“Arthur, please.”

Arthur raised his hand in the air to stop any further communication. “No, Merlin. No! I’m putting a stop to this right now. I cannot believe I allowed you to talk me into this nonsense of destiny and all the other bullshit. You have a serious problem. I think you should get some professional help…”

“You think I’m crazy?”

“Uh, _yeah_. And I won’t have you dragging me down with your delusions.”

“Delusions? God, Arthur! Listen to me. How would I have known what her name was? I knew before she ever introduced herself. Explain that…”

“I don’t care, Merlin! It doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter!”

Slowly and deliberately, Arthur finished getting dressed in silence. His head ached and his stomach growled from lack of food, but all he really wanted was to open a bottle of something strong and then drink until he could no longer stand upright. When he paused to grab his watch from the dresser, Arthur looked out of the window. The sky had already grown dark, much like Arthur’s mood.

It never occurred to Arthur to let Merlin in on the fact that Ms. Fox was an imposter. Well, it actually had crossed his mind – numerous times, in fact – but Arthur tried to stamp out the impulse to reveal that bit of information. There could be a perfectly reasonable explanation why she had taken on the persona of curator. Maybe Bennington had suddenly left for greener pastures and she was quickly hired as a temporary replacement, unbeknownst to Arthur. That particular scenario didn’t seem likely, seeing as how Arthur was a control freak and he was always kept up-to-date on such matters, but lately he had been a little distracted; the information could have slipped through the cracks without his knowledge.

The one person who Arthur knew would have the answers was his father. Uther certainly depended on his son’s expertise in keeping Camelot firing on all cylinders, yet the elder Pendragon was by no means a passive participant in his own kingdom. Very little passed by the scrutiny of Uther Pendragon; there was a reason why he struck fear in the hearts of those around him. A formidable presence with eyes of a hawk, Uther would certainly be aware of any change of the guard at Calibourne.

Arthur walked out of the bedroom and passed by the kitchen bar, snatching his keys with more vehemence than he intended. “I’ll be back later.”

“Where are you going?” Merlin asked in a panic as Arthur strode determinedly to the door.

“I have to see my father before word gets to him that I’m in London. And after the fiasco this morning, I’m sure it will be no time before he finds out, if he doesn’t already know. We have things to discuss.”

The loud slam of the door sent Merlin into a tailspin. Of course, Arthur was angry and confused and thought Merlin was a complete lunatic. Who wouldn’t? More often times than not, Merlin himself had wondered about his own state of mind since he’d come in contact with the dragon-tattooed man in the club. Merlin didn’t consider himself to be a religious person, certainly never believed in reincarnation, and he thought magicians were no more than tricksters and masters of sleights of hand. Yet Merlin couldn’t deny there were odd things happening all around him. He felt different. His sixth sense told him that he was very close to a breakthrough, although he wasn’t sure what said breakthrough entailed. All he knew was that Arthur was in danger. The foreboding sense of doom settled over him like black thunderstorm clouds that swiftly rolled into a pristine sky, dangerous bolts of lightning waiting in the wings for the command to strike their deadly blow.

After brewing a cup of tea, Merlin sat down cross-legged on the sofa and pulled the heavy book into his lap. He paged through it slowly, closing his eyes intermittently as if that would make everything sink into his brain more fully. Merlin dared not speak the words aloud in the event it would incite something disastrous. The few visions of the past he’d entertained had given him the impression that his power was great; too great to risk foolishly playing around with things he didn’t yet understand.

Three cups of tea later, a soft knock sounded on the door and before Merlin even thought twice about it, he walked over and opened it. “Morgana.”

“Merlin! Thank God, you’re here. Where’s Arthur?” she asked as she slid past Merlin and entered the lounge, wringing her hands nervously.

Slowly, Merlin closed the door and turned towards her. “He isn’t here.”

“Where is he?”

Her tone was high-pitched and a bit annoyed, or maybe it was more like frightened. Merlin couldn’t tell.

“I think he left to go talk to his father…”

“You _think_?” Morgana practically shouted.

“No. I…I _know_ he needed to speak with his father about something. Is everything alright?”

She spun around and turned her back to Merlin. “No! Everything is not alright!

Walking forward, Merlin reached out and touched her shoulder in an attempt to give some semblance of comfort. “What’s going on?”

“I…I’m not sure. Everything just feels… _wrong_.”

Dread encompassed Merlin. He felt a shift in the universe, as if everything he knew suddenly rested on a dangerous precipice and life was about to forever change. His fleeting memories of Morgana had always been fond, but now he sensed a dark force had crept in and gutted them both.

Her eyes widened and she stared at Merlin with intensity, boring holes into his very soul. “Who are you?”

Merlin stepped back in shock. “What? I’m Merlin Emrys, chemical engineering student, Arthur’s boyfriend.” _I hope._ “You know who I am.”

His blood ran cold when she got a faraway look in her eyes and she laughed, a high, mirthless sound that made Merlin's hair stand on end. “Do I? Do I really know who you are, Merlin? Or are you lying to me?

“I’ve been told some things,” she continued softly. “I don’t know what to make of anything anymore.” Her hands flew up to her pale, delicate face and she cradled her head in her hands.

“Morgana, please tell me what’s going on.”

“I don’t know!” Tears threatened to spill but she took a deep breath and regained her composure, lifting her head and zeroing a piercing gaze in Merlin’s direction. “I had a visitor this evening. A woman. She claimed to be my sister.”

“ _Claimed_ to be?” Merlin shook his head, not understanding.

“I don’t have a sister, Merlin. At least not one that I was aware of. I need to find Arthur.”

The feeling of dread grew exponentially, flowing through Merlin like a rushing tidal wave, twisting around his neck in a stranglehold as he struggled to breathe. “Who is this woman? What did she say?”

“She said her name is Morgause and that we were separated after I was born. She told me she tried to look after me from a great distance a long time ago. A _long_ time ago; like, I don’t know, _centuries_. It’s absolutely mad. But somehow…it’s not. She hugged me and I felt close to her, closer than I’ve ever felt to anyone. It was rather frightening and yet…comforting.

“But then she said that I was in danger. Someone I’d met recently was going to try to hurt me.” She hesitated, deep in thought. “We just met yesterday, Merlin.”

The implication of her words caused Merlin to gasp. “What?!? No! No! I would never…Why would I hurt you, Morgana? I have no reason to…”

“That’s what I thought, too. You don’t seem the sort to hurt a fly. I just…I don’t know, Merlin. I have to speak with Arthur.” Her eyes narrowed, scrunching a line across her forehead. “Or maybe Uther. Yes, Uther would know if I have a sister,” she said with determination, suddenly calmed with her decision.

“Well, let’s go then,” Merlin said, desperate to find Arthur himself.

“What?”

“I’ll come with you.”

She shook her head. “I don’t think so…”

“Please, Morgana? We’re wasting time.”

After a pause that seemed just this side of forever, Morgana finally relented. “Very well, Merlin. Let’s go.”

********

Arthur let himself inside, not wishing to announce his presence by ringing the doorbell. He hadn’t lived in the mansion since he’d left for university yet he retained a key to the front door, just as Morgana did. Uther’s children would always be welcomed in his home. Despite their differences and squabbles, Arthur knew his father harboured a soft spot where he and Morgana were concerned and that would likely never change.

He softly closed the double doors, their etched glass glinting in the low light, and scanned the foyer. Nothing seemed to have changed since the last time he’d set foot in his father’s house. His shoes clicked across the mosaic-tiled floor, echoing through the vast space of one of London’s premier estates. The suspended chandelier was turned off yet there was a soft glow from lit sconces along the wall that bordered the English oak stained staircase.

Flicking his wrist to see the time, Arthur decided his father would probably be enjoying his dinner at that hour so he headed off in the direction of the formal dining room. Uther always took his meals there, even when dining solo, which was most of the time. Arthur never understood how one could take pleasure in sitting at a ridiculously long table and eating alone with only the crackle of a fire and clinking silverware to pierce the stillness.

Making a sharp turn around a corner, Arthur nearly ran into the butler.

“Mr. Pendragon! I didn’t know you were expected this evening.”

“Hello, Charles. No, my father wasn’t expecting me. I was just heading to the dining room.”

“Oh, well, he dined out this evening. I was just on my way out. Mrs. Palmer has already left but I’m pretty handy in the kitchen.”

Arthur smiled as he remembered Charles’ delicious omelets filled with cheeses and meats and the occasional vegetable “for a growing boy”. “No, no,” Arthur waved his hand. “That won’t be necessary. He’s not here then?”

“No, Mr. Pendragon is here. He’s taking his cognac out on the terrace.”

Arthur nodded his head. “Very good. I’ll join him. Have a nice evening, Charles.”

“Thank you, sir. It’s nice to see you again after all this time.”

“Likewise.”

With a nod of his head, Arthur re-routed his journey to the conservatory. French doors leading out to the terrace were wide open and a slightly cool breeze swirled throughout the room. His father’s tall form was silhouetted against the moonlit sky, leaning against the railing and sipping his drink in quiet reflection. Arthur loudly cleared his throat well before he darkened the doorway, not wishing to startle Uther.

“Father.”

Uther turned and frowned, but just as quickly a small smile graced his lips. “Arthur? What on earth are you doing here?”

“So, you didn’t know I’m in the city? That’s good.”

Arthur stepped forward and made a motion to pat Uther’s arm. He stopped in mid-air, suddenly conscious of the fact that if he were to offer a hug, he wasn’t sure how it would be received. The awkward pause propelled Uther to reach out and they clasped hands with a firm shake. Demonstrative affection was certainly not a Pendragon trait. Arthur knew that all too well from his twenty-five years of carrying the burden of the surname Pendragon.

“No. Why would I know you’re in London? You never told me that you were flying in. Is everything alright in Boston?”

“Yes, everything’s fine in Boston. May I?” Arthur gestured to a crystal decanter and clean glass on a round table.

“Of course. Sit down, Arthur.”

They both sat down across from each other at the small table, Arthur pouring a splash of cognac and Uther sipping his. Arthur rolled it around in the glass for a moment before taking a drink. The smooth liquid tasted entirely too good so he quickly drained his glass and poured another for courage.

“What brings you home, Arthur?” Uther, forever direct and not one for skirting an issue stared at his son curiously.

“There is a matter at Calibourne that requires my personal attention.”

“What sort of matter?”

“Tell me, Father, have you been there recently? Since the acquisition?”

“No, it’s been a few weeks since I’ve had time to foster my little hobby. Why? What is going on?”

“What happened to Peter Bennington?”

Uther leant forward in irritation. “Why do you keep answering my questions with questions?”

Arthur squirmed in his seat but kept his eyes locked on his father’s. “Alright. This morning I discovered Bennington was no longer the curator of Calibourne.”

“What?”

“You weren’t aware of it either?”

After clearing his throat, Uther placed his hands on the table. “Arthur, Calibourne is amusement for me. I appreciate your dedication to pursuing the company, but I am not in charge of the daily goings on there. _You_ are. So, you’re telling me that a new curator was appointed without your knowledge? I hope you don’t run the rest of my subsidiaries like this. It’s hardly the impression a leader-in-waiting would want to give to the president of a billion dollar corporation, let alone the stockholders.”

“No…I…There is something odd going on there. I just figured you’d know something because it’s not as if you don’t go behind me and make sure all the t’s are crossed and i’s dotted.”

“Is that what you think? Arthur, I’ll have you know, I put a lot of faith and trust in your abilities as a businessman. I’m sorry if I haven’t conveyed that clearly to you. But…perhaps I’ve made a mistake. If you feel that you can’t handle…”

“No, Father! No! I absolutely can handle anything. Everything.”

 _Faith and trust…_ Arthur’s mind was reeling. Maybe everything he’d worked so hard to achieve wasn’t in vain after all. Acknowledgement from the all-powerful Uther was something he hadn’t been sure he’d ever receive. And there it was on a silver platter.

“You’re keeping something from me. What is it?” Uther looked at him pointedly, expecting nothing but the truth.

Arthur took a deep breath. “Well, there’s this man, a friend, a good friend,” he paused.

“Arthur! Spit it out!”

“I met him in Boston. And he came into contact with someone who used to be part of Calibourne. This person seemed to have a particular interest in me, and I wasn’t exactly sure why. That’s why I went to Wales…”

“Wales?”

“Yes, and then we ended up here.”

“ _We_?”

“My friend, Merlin. He’s here with me.”

Uther shifted in his chair and craned his neck sideways. “Well, where is he?”

“No, he’s back at my flat. Anyway, we went to Calibourne this morning and that’s when I discovered the curator has been replaced.”

Standing to his feet, Uther moved to the edge of the terrace and stared out into the dark June sky. “This is all rather fascinating, Arthur. But what is your point?”

With his glass drained dry once again, Arthur joined his father and gripped the railing until his knuckles turned white. “Uh, well, it’s quite mad, actually…”

Uther clasped Arthur’s arm and turned him so they were directly facing one another. “My patience is beginning to wear thin. What are you going on about?”

“Ah…” Arthur rubbed his eyes. “Alright. Merlin believes he is the reincarnation, that we’re all reincarnations of a kingdom from long ago called Camelot.”

“What?” Uther couldn’t help the grin on his face. “You’re not serious.”

“Oh, it gets better.” Arthur rolled his eyes. “Camelot was supposedly wiped from everyone’s memories by a witch who is right now plotting to kill me. This is what the man told Merlin. And she just happens to be the current curator of Calibourne. Apparently.”

Laughter spilled forth with such force from Uther that he had to grab his side before toppling over in a fit. Arthur joined him and father and son even came close to embracing as they patted each other on the back, trying to avoid choking on their own mirth.

“Oh, that’s fantastic, Arthur. I really needed a good chuckle. Come. I want to show you my latest purchase in the war room.”

They walked side-by-side down the hall a short distance before they entered the room Uther affectionately referred to as the “war room”. His personal stash of weaponry, armour, and the like were on display in all of their glory. Glass cases accommodated certain relics whilst others were mounted on the wall. A particular sword captured Arthur’s interest immediately. He walked towards it and Uther followed closely, reaching out to dislodge the beautiful weapon with a smile.

“The pièce de résistance,” Uther proclaimed proudly, placing the sword’s hilt in Arthur’s hand. “The craftsmanship is astounding, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, it’s…amazing.” Arthur felt warmth spread through his arm, up his shoulder and then to the rest of his body as he turned it back and forth, mesmerised by its beauty and strength. “I’ve never seen such a stunning blade. What are these markings?” He tilted it from side to side, attempting to make out an archaic looking inscription.

“I’ve been told it says ‘Take me up’ on one side and ‘Cast me away’ on the other. I don’t really know for certain, but it makes for a good story.”

“Hmm…” Arthur sighed.

“What is it?”

“I don’t know. It’s strange.”

“What’s strange?”

The sword felt natural in his hand, as if it was created especially for him. “It’s strange because it seems so _familiar_.” Arthur shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

Suddenly, a thunderous crash sounded from the conservatory. Arthur and Uther looked at each other in horrified shock and then bolted in that direction.

********

“Are we almost there?” Merlin nervously drummed his fingers against his thigh, anxious and worried to his core.

“Just a little while longer,” Morgana answered, squinting from the occasional oncoming bright lights. “Why are you so tense? I’m the one who should be tense. Hopefully Uther will be honest with me and tell me if I have a sister or not.”

“I’m not tense. I just want to see Arthur.”

She cocked her head sideways and smiled. “You really like him, don’t you?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do. More than I should, I’m sure.”

“Why more than you should? Do you think he’s going to break your heart?”

Merlin watched her out of the corner of his eye. Morgana was an easy person to talk to. He even sensed they could be good friends or _had_ been good friends. She was a strong, willful woman who gave her share of grief, according to Arthur, yet Merlin gathered Arthur would fight to the death to protect her.

“Merlin?”

“What? Oh, sorry. Uh…Do I think Arthur’s going to break my heart? The possibility is there. Definitely. I’m not the world’s luckiest person when it comes to love.”

“Love?” she gasped. “You’re in love with him?”

“I’m really trying not to think about that. Unlucky. Me.” Merlin pointed to himself and grinned shyly.

Morgana chuckled. “I hear you, Merlin. I’ve had my share of bad luck. I mean, this latest guy was all over me for the past few weeks and now it’s nothing. Nothing. No phone calls. Nothing. I keep telling myself that it’s not me. Edgar just can’t handle a real woman with ideas and a clear sense of what she wants out of life.”

Nausea hit Merlin’s stomach full force and he fought to keep it under control. _Edgar._ Surely, there had to be hundreds – thousands, even – of Edgars in the vicinity of London. But Merlin knew. He _knew_. There were no longer any coincidences, maybe there never had been, and suddenly Merlin sensed the time was at hand.

He had to get to Arthur. All of their lives depended on it.

********

“What in the devil’s name…” Uther whispered under his breath. His eyes and mouth widened at the sight of three figures standing on the now-destroyed terrace in a wide half-circle. They wore hooded cloaks, each a different colour: red, blue, and green.

Arthur stood next to his father and came face-to-face with the familiar dark-haired woman with striking blue eyes, made even more so by the blue cloak. She was positioned at the center of the half-circle, flanked by a beautiful blonde woman in red and a pale-faced young man – no older than fifteen, it seemed - with the largest blue eyes Arthur had ever seen. He still had the sword in his hand and he gripped it tightly, somehow gaining strength from the feel of it against his palm.

Damage of unbelievable proportions left the terrace in ruins. All the furniture had been swept aside, a crumbled heap on either end as if a tornado had suddenly blown through. Shards of glass littered the stone floor; even the iron railing had been bent into a giant gnarled curl. Wind swirled to and fro, strong enough to rattle the windows in the conservatory whilst thick dust from debris teemed through the air.

Uther finally found his voice, horror-struck and yet angry. “What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing? Get out of my home this instant!”

“Oh, Uther,” the dark-haired woman said softly. “I used to be welcome in your home. Well, that was until you had everyone that I knew and loved assassinated. But your time will come.” She opened her arms as if to embrace the air and laughed. “It seems your time is _now_.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about…” Uther started forward.

Immediately, Arthur moved directly in front of Uther, brandishing the sword in an attempt to ward them off. “Nimueh, or whatever your name is, I’ll not have you threatening my father. You and your _friends_ will leave at once.”

“Ha! Arthur. Still the same brave, foolish lad, I see.”

“You know this woman, Arthur?”

“We met this morning. And…” He paused, deep in thought. “I think I remember another time…”

“Enough!” Nimueh waved her hand forcefully. “Ábregdan!”

Arthur and Uther were flung on opposite sides of the terrace, Uther so forcefully that he crashed into the brick wall and slumped down with a pained groan.

When he opened his eyes, Nimueh stood over him, glaring and smirking with crazed, wide eyes. “I’ve waited a long time for this, Uther. Look at you, mighty King. You’re pathetic and weak without your army of men protecting you. It will be my joy and honour to avenge my people, the people you persecuted for so many years.”

“You will not touch him!” Arthur shouted and jumped to his feet, swinging the sword upon his forward momentum. Blood trickled down the side of his face from a piece of glass that had pierced his skin.

The young man clad in emerald green suddenly stepped in-between Arthur and Nimueh and placed his hand on Arthur’s chest. The intensity of the boy’s gaze bore into Arthur as he pressed down in ominous silence, rendering Arthur paralysed. “Ugh!” Arthur moaned, wincing from an incredible ache in his head.

 _You’re not going to win, Arthur. We came for Uther. Leave us in peace. I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if you give me no choice._

Each syllable within Arthur’s mind shot excruciating pain through his head until he thought he’d pass out. His legs were as lead, fused to the position like a helpless statue. “You…will…have…to…kill…me…” Arthur grimaced, trying his damnedest to break the fierce hold. “AHHHHHHH!!!”

“Arthur!” Merlin shouted.

“Oh, my God…” Morgana stared dumbfounded at the devastation, panting hard to keep oxygen in her lungs. She saw Uther lying on the floor and rushed to his side.

“Morgana!”

Morgana looked up and saw the blonde woman who claimed to be her sister. “Morgause? What’s happening here?” she shouted.

Nimueh shifted her gaze to Merlin and laughed. “You don’t even know who you are. Just as it should be.”

Panic filled Merlin as he tried to reach Arthur but all of a sudden he was grabbed from behind by strong arms. “Let me go!” He twisted and jerked in the unyielding embrace.

“Merlin,” warm breath cascaded over his ear, “I can help you.”

“Edgar?”

“ _Edgar_?” Morgana’s eyes grew even more frightened. “I don’t understand,” she whispered, looking down at Uther and clasping his hand. Their eyes met; terrified expressions on both of their faces.

“Morgana, you must leave at once.” Morgause appeared at her side, pulling on her arm and trying to lift her up.

“Get away from me!” Morgana screamed and shrugged out of her grasp.

Firm fingers with blood red nails latched onto Morgause’s shoulder. “Let the witch die with her pseudo-father.”

“No! She is not to be harmed!”

“Morgana…” Uther said weakly.

Watching the events unfold like a nightmare, Arthur struggled to free himself from the trap of the menacing blue-eyed boy. Arthur’s anger was all-consuming, particularly since he was unable to do a damned thing to stop them. If only he could distract the boy. “Why…Why are you…doing this?” he stammered, his body aching with each staccato breath.

Twisting back and forth, Merlin’s bony elbows pressed into hard muscle. “What the hell are you doing? Let me go!”

“Merlin, listen to me. I can end this right now. _We_ can end this together. Tap into the dark recesses of your mind and restore me to my true form. You can do it, Merlin. Remember…Remember…”

He placed his warm hands on Merlin’s temples, squeezing hard and pulling their bodies flush. Merlin quickly stopped struggling and closed his eyes. His heart beat so fast and he felt blood rushing through his body like an internal waterfall, the force growing stronger and stronger. He thought of Arthur and loyalty and honour; the idea of a world without him was one that Merlin couldn’t tolerate. Anger bubbled up inside him, igniting an unquenchable flame, and the words poured forth from his soul, his heart, and his mind. “Ic gebann wyrmlíc fram píslíce slǽp ond ábrecan inbend æt lǽdan mín galdorléoð!”

As soon as the words were uttered, Edgar took off in a sprint and jumped over the damaged railing. However, he never hit the ground. His body spun around and around through the air, hands and feet morphing into dangerous clawed talons, body shifting into an immense, scaly torso, face transforming into a vicious snout with razor-sharp teeth. Wings jutted out from his body, flapping with a mighty strength of gale force winds as he flew through the sky with a threatening roar and blazing fire.

Every memory flooded Merlin’s entire being. And that’s when he realised his grave mistake. “NOOOOO!!!” Merlin screamed.

The emergence of the dragon was enough of a distraction for Arthur to break free of the boy’s stranglehold. He spun around with the sword in hand and sliced the sharp tip across the boy’s chest. The shrill scream was enough to make Arthur’s blood run cold, but it gave him ample time to bridge the gap between himself and Merlin.

“Merlin!” Arthur shouted, shaking the dazed man. “Merlin! What do we do? Merlin! Merlin! God damn it! Listen to me!” Hell had literally broken loose and for the first time in his life, Arthur knew true fear.

Merlin stared at Arthur in devastated misery and guilt. Helplessness pervaded his soul whilst his eyes roamed towards Uther and Morgana in the clutches of Nimueh, then at the subsequent stone sculpture that was hurled at Arthur’s head with an anguished cry of anger from Mordred. Merlin’s eyes flashed golden and the trajectory of the heavy object was re-routed to crash against the wall.

Somehow, the great and powerful Magician had been tricked by an oversized worm. Nimueh hadn’t been the one to erase Camelot from everyone’s memories; she was already dead at that point in time. It was Merlin. The sorcerer had been so overcome with grief by Arthur’s death in battle that he had conjured a powerful concealment spell, even unto himself. He couldn’t live all of those lifetimes, knowing that eventually his memories would return and gut him all over again. To ensure the dragon’s continued acquiescence, Merlin had forged an enchantment to strip him of his true form; an eternity spent as a human in which his core strength was neutralised.

However, it seemed that Kilgharrah would now have his revenge.

********

A thunderous roar signalled the oncoming blast of fire as the dragon swooped low and scorched the outskirts of the terrace. Everyone fell to the ground for cover in its blistering wake; everyone except Merlin.

Golden eyes flashed and Merlin lifted his hands towards the heavens. “Ic ábiddan grundwæg æt ábégan æt mín yrfebéc.”

Clouds quickly rolled in and thick fog merged with smoke to blanket the mansion from clear view. Arthur took the opportunity to wrestle Uther and Morgana away from Nimueh, pushing them inside the house and yelling, “Run for cover! Go on! Get out of here!”

Morgana struggled against him. “No!”

“Morgana, now is not the time to be stubborn! Take Father and go!”

“Go, Morgana,” Morgause said. “Please.”

After nearly losing his footing, Uther slid against Morgana’s body and draped his heavy arm over her shoulders. The pair hobbled further into the mansion, Morgana taking the brunt of Uther’s weight.

Arthur’s sword, he now accepted it as _his_ , felt like an extension of his body. He charged ahead when Nimueh stood up and began to lift her hands in the air.

“Á ánweald deorcnes…”

Before the litany of words fully expelled from her mouth, Arthur drew a deep breath and swung the blade with all of his might, chopping her hands off in one fluid movement. Nimueh stumbled backwards and he pounced, pinning her down with his foot and driving the sword deep within her chest. Sweat poured from Arthur’s skin and his hand shook as he retracted the bloody blade. He shrugged off his coat and tie whilst the groans and pants of Nimueh’s final breaths nearly made him retch. Before he had a chance to recover from the horrific experience of taking a life, the boy began to scream so loud that Arthur dropped the sword, covered his ears, and then he was slammed against the brick wall with great force.

The loud thud was just the thing to send Merlin over the edge. Fury amassed into a torrential downpour of hatred and venom as he faced the younger sorcerer. “You took Arthur from me once, Mordred. It shall not come to pass again.”

Merlin saw the boy still struggled from the superficial wound of Excalibur, yet the sneer on his lips illustrated that Mordred’s rage was alive and well. What Merlin didn’t expect was Morgause’s sudden appearance at Mordred’s side, a united front of powerful magic.

“I cannot forget how you tried to kill my sister. For that, you must pay.”

“You gave me no choice!” Merlin screamed, tears threatening to spill as he remembered that horrible day. The look of confusion and terror in Morgana’s eyes would forever sear his conscience. “Morgana was my friend…I didn’t want to hurt her. A part of me died that day…”

“And _all_ of you will die tonight!”

“Morgause! No!”

Morgana stood in the doorway of the conservatory; she held one of the swords from the war room in her hand and her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “Merlin…”

Their eyes met and tears rolled down both of their faces.

“I remember, Merlin. I remember everything…”

“Morgana.” Merlin turned towards her with a heavy heart.

“Merlin, watch out!” Morgana shrieked.

The dragon landed on the terrace with a mighty roar and spewing flames, so large he nearly encompassed the entire space. One of his talons had ensnared Mordred and the beast tossed the boy over the railing. He turned his enormous head towards Morgana, and Morgause moved quickly to stand in front of her.

“Kilgharrah!” Merlin roared, close enough to feel heat emanating from the monstrous body.

The dragon ignored the pair of sisters and focussed on Merlin. “At first, I really only wanted Uther dead. But you, Merlin, have made some unfortunate decisions and for that there is no reprieve.”

Merlin’s eyes turned golden and he lifted his hand. “Géanhworfennes æt æðelu ond áblinnan dréfung! I am the last Dragonlord. You will do as I command and leave this place forever.”

A raucous laugh filled the air. “No, young warlock, you are mistaken. You are not the last Dragonlord. Yet. There is another who breathes air through his lungs as we speak; one who is the true and rightful heir of the gift…”

“ _I_ am the true and rightful Dragonlord. The power was passed down to me by my father.”

“Yes, it was. When your father died. But Balinor lives. You have no power over me.”

Panic rose up Merlin’s throat. He hadn’t considered that during every rebirth, his father would once again possess the authority of a Dragonlord, thereby usurping Merlin’s abilities to control the beast. Balinor had to be found. However, there was no time.

The beast reared back and blew a mighty blaze of fire from the depths of his belly, directing the scorching blast Merlin’s way. The sorcerer instinctively slowed the path of flames with his mind and uttered over and over again, “Líeg pleoh nealles!” as he braced himself for the oncoming inferno that never touched a hair on his head.

“You cannot hold me off forever!” Kilgharrah roared, in Merlin's already overtaxed mind, increasing the intensity of his fiery breath.

Merlin suddenly felt a presence next to his side and Morgause joined him in the chant. ““Líeg pleoh nealles. “Líeg pleoh nealles. “Líeg pleoh nealles…” She took her hand in his and they raised their arms together in solidarity, defiant and stalwart.

With unrelenting tenacity, the dragon continued the deluge of deadly flames. The standoff took its toll on Merlin and Morgause. Their grip tightened and they leant into one another, holding each other up through the onslaught.

Morgana’s attention was suddenly drawn to Arthur, the fiery blue of his eyes determined and deadly as he slowly came to. “Arthur, no!” she screamed.

He jumped to his feet and ran to the boundary of the spell’s sanctuary with the sword raised high. “For the love of Camelot!”

“Bregdan ánweald Excalibur!” Merlin shouted from the depths of his soul, eyes blazing and fury raging inside, knowing this was it and they’d either survive or perish. The sword flew from Arthur’s hand like a missile through the fire and deep into Kilgharrah’s heart.

“NOOOOOO!!!” The beast howled in anguish and fell backwards, obliterating the remains of the railing and pressing a fissure into the soft earth, a shallow grave fashioned perfectly for the Great Dragon. Kilgharrah’s body twitched violently as the immortal life was extinguished by the power of the sword that the beast himself had forged so long ago.

Thick black smoke enveloped the air, choking and all-consuming. Merlin gathered his bearings and doused the remaining flames around the terrace and conservatory with a whispered command of, “Lafian líeg.”

“Arthur!” Merlin ran into his lover’s arms and held on tight, tears streaming down his face. Desperate hands wandered over Arthur’s blond head and face and shoulders and back and chest; checking for injuries; making sure it wasn’t a dream that the man he loved was alive and well.

Arthur buried his face in Merlin’s shoulder, choking back tears, and he gripped the thin body hard to his chest. “Merlin…Merlin…” he said over and over again, kissing anywhere he could find pale skin and ending with devouring Merlin’s mouth.

After a few moments of reassuring themselves that they were both unharmed, they reluctantly separated and walked together to the edge of the stone floor. Smoke still seeped from the dragon’s corpse, the pungent odour nearly making them gag. Morgana and Morgause had made their way to the lawn, leaning over Mordred’s body and speaking in low whispers. The boy stirred, weak but alive.

“Arthur, you need to call 999,” Morgana called out, smoothing the boy’s brown hair back from his eyes. “Now, Arthur!”

“What? I can’t call 999, Morgana! I _murdered_ someone!”

“What? It was self-defence!”

“Oh, _you_ explain it to Scotland Yard! Not to mention, the big fucking dead _dragon_ on the lawn!”

Merlin placed his hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “Arthur, it will be alright. I’ll take care of it. Make the call.”

********

Firefighters and coppers scavenged the mansion, interviewing everyone and taking notes through looks of disbelief and bewilderment. Mordred had been transported by ambulance to hospital and Arthur and Morgana had left to attend to Uther in his bedroom. Merlin was certain whatever explanation they came up with wouldn’t satisfy the elder Pendragon.

He stood in the foyer to see Morgause off as she readied herself to follow after Mordred. Their eyes met and an understanding passed between them, yet Merlin was still troubled.

“What is it?” she asked.

“I just…I can’t understand why everything went to hell. I mean, this should have never happened. How was Kilgharrah able to break my spell?”

“Magic isn’t infallible, Merlin. It’s a living, breathing entity that is part of us. It grows as we grow; changes as we change. You abandoned it, so eventually it began to abandon you. It was only a matter of time before the spell of concealment began to slowly fade. Because of Kilgharrah’s great connection to the Old Religion, it makes sense that he was the first to regain his memories. And he instigated the reawakening in all of us who possess the gift: Nimueh, Mordred, Morgana, you, me. Even Arthur, for he was also born of magic.

“You shouldn’t hide from you who you are, Merlin, but embrace it.” She began to turn towards the door.

“But it will just happen all over again. Kilgharrah and Nimueh will eventually find their way once more and try to take out Uther. It’s a vicious circle that will never end…”

“Perhaps not,” Morgause mused. “They were, after all, destroyed by Excalibur. Maybe that sealed their fate.”

“Maybe.” Merlin didn’t look convinced.

“Enjoy this life, Merlin. It’s all you have at this point in time.”

With a small, parting smile, Morgause opened the double doors and walked outside into the early light of day.

“What will you do?” Merlin stepped forward, not quite ready to break contact with the sorceress.

“I’m not sure. I would like to get to know my sister, if she desires it as well. I suppose I can take care of Mordred until he comes of age. I expect he will need much guidance. Farewell, Merlin. Perhaps I shall see you again in this lifetime. If not, definitely in the next,” she winked.

********

Merlin snuggled deeper into the strong arms around his body, scrunching his eyes shut from the sunshine streaming in through the oversized window and burrowing further beneath the sheets. He curled his fingers into the soft hair along Arthur’s chest and breathed in the scent of his skin, enveloped in warmth and love.

“Are you awake?” Arthur asked, kissing the top of Merlin’s head through the Egyptian white cotton.

“No.”

“Well, then, I suppose you’re not up for a quick shag before I have to leave for the office.”

Dark hair, sticking up in all directions, suddenly appeared along with wide blue eyes and a grin to match. “I’m totally up for that.”

“Hmm…That’s what I thought…”

Cradling Merlin’s face in his hands, Arthur leant in for a kiss. Sweetness and gentleness led to desperate and horny as their tongues tangled and mouths opened wider. Bedclothes were quickly discarded whilst hands roamed over bare skin, frantic and insistent. Arthur’s thighs splayed open and Merlin settled into his lap with a moan through the mouth that ran down his neck and along his collarbone; hands slid up and down Merlin’s back and a wandering finger dipped into the crease of his arse and fingered his hole.

“Oh, God, Arthur, I don’t want this to ever end…”

“You’re still slick for me,” Arthur groaned, delving his finger deeper, in and out as Merlin pushed into the motion.

Arthur lifted up and shifted Merlin to his back, latching onto his thighs and rubbing the warm skin he found there. “Mine,” he growled and leant down to take Merlin’s cock inside his mouth.

“Yours. Forever, Arthur,” Merlin panted.

He flexed his hips and fucked Arthur’s mouth until he was near the brink of coming, crying out in despair when Arthur pulled off and stretched his body up, their noses nearly touching.

“What?” Merlin whispered.

Arthur stared into beautiful blue eyes and caressed Merlin’s cheekbones with his thumbs. His heart felt so full he was afraid it would burst in his chest.

The first time he’d met Merlin, Arthur was a spoilt, arrogant prince. A bit of a prat, he had to admit, smiling with fondness for one of Merlin’s favourite words. Yet throughout their many adventures, and arguments and seemingly general disdain for one another, the bond between them had never wavered in its completeness and severity. They truly were two halves of a whole and Arthur wondered how he’d ever survived for so long without having Merlin in his arms. Arthur was grateful that the dragon had awakened from his magical slumber, despite all the horror and destruction.

For in the end, Kilgharrah’s revenge was a new beginning.


End file.
